The Bodyguard
by Rose Malmaison
Summary: Tony meets Gibbs in 1991 and in 2010 the man's still guarding his body. Ongoing series of past and present stories. Slash Gibbs/DiNozzo. NOTE: I will post this story only when I've finished writing it, but it could take a while. NOT COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Genre: Slash, Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Warnings include language, slashy situations  
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for further exploration.  
Spoilers: Up to beginning of season 8  
Summary: Tony meets Gibbs in 1991 and in 2010 the man's still guarding his body.

**NOTE:** This story is not complete. I will post the rest of it only when I have finished writing it, and I'm not sure when that will be. I suggest you mark this for notifications about updates. Sorry for leaving it like this!

**The Bodyguard**

**Chapter 1 - Road Trip**

_Thomas Magnum: Why did I quit the Navy? It wasn't anything earth shattering. I woke up one day, age 33, and realized I'd never been 23._

Summer 1991, Columbus, Ohio

Tony stood in the middle of his small, rundown apartment and looked the man up and down. His slow perusal from head to toe teetered on the brink of insolence. At first glance, there was little to like. The man, Gibbs - he'd been told to call him Gibbs - had to be pushing forty with that short, graying hair and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that were more likely from squinting into the sun than smiling. His clothes were Sears with a dash of Uncle Sam's Clothiers but even out of uniform he looked as if he'd just stepped out of a desert war zone. He stood ramrod straight like he had a baton up his ass.

Upon a second look there was more to appreciate. Gibbs' redeeming quality was his eyes - brilliant, piercing blue eyes in a very tanned face. And, right now, they held an icy cold stare of the take-no-prisoners variety.

Tony didn't break and run even though he was tempted to. He raised his chin and stood at his full height to show he was not to be taken lightly. The resulting smile, when it briefly appeared on Gibbs' face, told Tony that he hadn't fooled the man, and that he sure as hell wasn't going to give the young man in his charge an inch of slack. Tony shivered imperceptibly in anticipation.

Gibbs held the telephone to his ear and let out small grunts and the occasional, "Yes, Colonel." He never took his eyes off Tony during the entire time he was on the phone, first with Col. Wheeler Hargrave, and then with DiNozzo, Sr..

Tony wasn't sure which of the two men he feared most, though during his days as a student at RI Military Academy, at least Col. Hargrave had been fair. Strict, but fair. A professor of naval science, he had been fond of quoting Hannibal at assemblies. "We will either find a way or make one." A man who believes that kind of thing can't be all bad, thought Tony.

Tony's father, who was a whole different kind of bad, had a different concept of what entailed being strict; it was more a matter of control. He was very good at maintaining control over everything in his world. Every time Tony thought he'd found a way out, good old Dad pulled him right back in. Like a fish on a line. Give a guy the feeling he has some leeway and haul him back in, real quick.

Not that Dad ever showed he cared a rat's ass about him. He had barely spoken to Tony over the past couple of years, and when he did it was in the form of orders, or bland comments laced with barely hidden contempt. Choosing Ohio State had been the last straw, as Tony had meant it to be. He'd learned a little about controlling his own destiny by making that decision.

Now, out of the blue, this man Gibbs had appeared on his doorstep with a haircut that screamed military and an attitude that clearly said 'his way or no way.'

Gibbs held out the phone to Tony. "He wants to talk."

For a few, long seconds, Tony didn't reach out to take it, using all his willpower to remain defiant. He did not want to talk to his father. What was the point, unless it was for another round of self-flagellation?

Gibbs' eyes narrowed a little and next thing Tony knew he was clutching the phone in his damp palm, and he was listening to his father, once again, giving him orders.

"You will do everything this man instructs you to do, Anthony. To the letter. Do I make myself clear?"

In a pitch-perfect sullen retort, Tony asked, "Why should I?"

"Because I tell you to," was the knee-jerk response.

Yes, Senior had the irritated-yet-duty-bound dad down pat. Tony clarified by asking, "I meant what's he doing standing here in my room, looking at me like he wants to haul my ass off to the recruiting office and get me enlisted in the Marines or something? What's going on?" He'd actually suggested he might enlist once, and DiNozzo, Sr.'s flare of temper had scared Tony. He never mentioned any of his plans to his father again. Not ever.

There was an uncharacteristic hesitation then DiNozzo said, "It's not important that you know. I…I can't explain."

"I don't need a baby-,uh, bodyguard." Tony watched Gibbs almost-smile and wondered what he was thinking.

Tense silence came over the phone line as clear as a spoken word. After an intake of breath, his father's voice dropped lower as he said, "Just trust me. For once, Anthony."

"What if I don't?" Tony cringed a little at his own temerity. He would never say that to his father's face, and probably wouldn't have questioned him at all a couple of years ago, but living on his own in a college setting had been wonderfully emancipating. Distance made him brave.

"Then trust Gibbs," DiNozzo barked, and hung up.

Tony handed the phone back to Gibbs. He shifted his weight and gauged the man. That he was military was obvious. Not long off the battlefield, if Tony read him right. There were subtle signs: hyper-alertness, that tense stance, bottled-up aggression. Something indefinable missing in the eyes. Even so, Col. Hargrave had chosen this man to be Tony's bodyguard and that counted for a lot. At least Dad had sought help from a good man.

"What's my dad done?" Tony had a pretty good idea but he wondered if Gibbs knew what DiNozzo, Sr., was really all about. People rarely crossed his father, but when they did it was a good time to duck. Tony knew a protection detail when he saw it. He'd bet that when the colonel had ordered, or assigned, Gibbs to baby-sit some college kid, he hadn't even asked why. Didn't mean that Tony had to like it.

Gibbs' expression didn't give anything away when he said curtly, "Not my business."

"What _is_ your business, exactly?" Tony persisted. The only response was a hooded look. Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's be straight here. You want me to go with you but I don't know you from Adam, and my mom told me to never get into cars with strangers." Tony smiled brightly to soften his words, but he meant what he said. He wasn't going anywhere with anyone without a good reason. "You have much experience at this kind of thing?"

It was funny that Tony was able to read so much into what was a straightforward, sharp look. Gibbs was assessing him again, trying to figure out if the young man standing casually in front of him was jerking his chain or really wanted the truth. Gibbs knew who his father was yet could see that Tony was living in a hole in the wall. He had to be curious. Gibbs' gaze didn't waver and neither did Tony's.

Finally Gibbs asked, "Experience with taking orders or being a bodyguard?"

"Either."

"I've done my share of babysitting," Gibbs said, tight-lipped.

A slow smile grew across Tony's face as he read between the lines. "With new recruits, right? Cherries? You were a drill instructor?"

Gibbs added, almost reluctantly, "Marines."

"Ahah…I thought there was some DI behind those baby-blues. Oh yeah, R. Lee Ermey in _Full Metal Jacket_! 'I'm Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your senior drill instructor. From now on you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and the last word out of your filthy sewers will be 'sir'. Do you maggots understand that?'"

Tony's face lit up in a wide, genuine smile and a couple of seconds later he saw, with delight, that Gibbs had eased up a little. Wow, to think his real smile held so much power. He was used to dazzling people to get what he wanted - teachers, girls and even people he didn't like at all. He rarely had any reason to smile from the heart, but there was something about this man that brought out the best in him. Tony asked, "Now what?"

Gibbs ordered, "Just don't call me 'sir'." He looked around at Tony's small apartment. Apart from the small bed, large TV, and a kitchenette, there were only books, videos and sports equipment in sight. Surprisingly there were only a few pieces of clothing scattered about and empty take-out containers were at a minimum. "Better grab your gear. Bring enough for a couple of weeks."

His eyes alight, Tony asked eagerly, "Road trip?"

Gibbs stepped closer to the young man, almost toe-to-toe, serious now. "I'm escorting you to New York because the colonel asked me to. You can call me your bodyguard or whatever you want, but one thing you will remember is that what I say is final. You will do exactly as I say, quickly, and without hesitation. Got that? There will be no debate. Rule number twenty."

Both excited and nervous, Tony licked his lips and asked, "You got a rule for everything?" He wasn't expecting the resulting glower and its intensity almost scared him. He watched Gibbs' jaw clench and his hands become fists, so he warily took a step back. The dark look on Gibbs face withdrew and was camouflaged with an almost bland expression, but not before Tony saw something was haunting the man. He said sincerely, "Hey, I'm sorry, man."

Startled at the younger man's apology, Gibbs cleared his throat. "Today, DiNozzo. We've got a long trip ahead of us."

Tony hurriedly packed some clothes and whatever else he'd need for a couple of weeks. He didn't own much so it didn't take him long. His hand hesitated over a copy of a soft-cover book lying on his bedside table.

"What're you reading?"

Gibbs had somehow managed to walk up right behind Tony, so close Tony could feel the man's warm breath on the back of his neck. Without turning, Tony said, "_The Man's Guide to Magnum, P. I._ I just bought it. It covers everything in the show - the guns, the team, the babes. Has pictures of the King Kamehameha Club, Magnum and Rick, T. C.'s chopper. It's a Hughes 500D," he said knowingly. Tony pointed to the car featured on the cover. His voice softened in a mixture of reverence and envy. "And Robin Master's car, a Ferrari 308 GTS. Someday…" He glanced up to see Gibbs staring at him. "Sorry, Gunny," he said, blushing.

Gibbs looked amused, despite himself. "Don't apologize. Nothing wrong with having dreams."

"Is that a rule?" Tony stuffed the book in his bag.

"Yeah. Number six."

"You got any more of those rules, boss?" When Gibbs didn't respond, Tony zipped up the bag and turned around to find the man's eyes were still on him. This time Tony couldn't fathom what was going on behind the Marine's mask.

"About fifty. Now, why do I get the feeling," Gibbs said with a small shake of his head, "that I'm gonna be making up a hell of a lot more rules before this little trip is over?"

All Tony could do was grin. He had a feeling this was the start of an interesting relationship.


	2. Chapter 2

Genre: Slash, Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Warnings include language, slashy situations  
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for further exploration.  
Spoilers: Up to beginning of season 8  
Summary: Tony meets Gibbs in 1991 and in 2010 the man's still guarding his body.

**The Bodyguard**

**Chapter 2 - Guarding Tony**

_Thomas Magnum: Now here we are in Paradise, we have everything we could ever possibly want out of life just here. So why, why can't we just do things for one another simply because we want to, simply because we're friends, simply because we feel like helping each other?_

Fall 2010, Washington, D. C.

Tony hit the director's desk with his fist. "I do _not_ need a bodyguard!" He turned to Gibbs. "You tell him, Gibbs." His boss leaned back in the comfortable chair and shrugged slightly to indicate there was nothing he could do about it. Tony turned back to Vance, trying to hold in his temper. He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I'll bet you didn't assign someone to watch over Ziva."

Leon Vance stood behind his desk to reply to Tony's accusation and demands. "Actually, I did assign someone to each of your team, Special Agent DiNozzo, and I expect you to accept the inevitable as gracefully as Special Agent David has." Vance added, in a calming voice, "This is only until the end of the week, and then I will review the threat assessment. If Reynosa is not caught by then we will regroup. Until Friday you will heed my command and accept that Special Agent Chester is your bodyguard."

Seeing there was no point in wasting any more time quarreling with Vance, especially as Gibbs wasn't offering an ounce of support, Tony exited the office.

No wonder Ziva hadn't kicked up a fuss about being assigned a personal protection detail. She stood over by the windows, admiring the muscular physique of Damon Werth. Tony turned to Gibbs, who smiled crookedly and shrugged. "Don't even ask," he warned.

Gibbs' father, now safely ensconced in his son's house in Alexandria, had two round-the-clock NCIS agents watching out for his wellbeing. The attempt by Paloma Reynosa only four days earlier to take him out in a hail of bullets was worthy of a scene from one of Thom E. Gemcity's novels. Jackson Gibbs may have been convinced to leave Stillwater, but he did not go happily. He was given the guest room upstairs, which was comfortable enough, but the thing that made it all worthwhile was being able to spend some quality time with his son.

Abby was being shadowed by Darren, the federal agent assigned to guard her. She was already asking him fashion and fetish advice; he appeared unfazed by her kinks. Ducky had a husky retired FBI agent at his side who, despite his linebacker looks, turned out to be a worthy opponent at chess and listened to the ME's longwinded stories without complaint.

McGee won the lottery by being assigned an ex-CIA operative named Lena, whose ageless beauty and dangerous appeal already had him inspired to begin a new book, tentatively entitled, 'Say it with a Bullet'.

Tony's protection came in a less appealing form. Special Agent Mario Chester was the quiet, unprepossessing, unrelenting fifty-year-old NCIS agent who had been assigned to watch Tony's back. He picked his teeth, had garlic breath and his hairstyle was a dyed blond comb-over that rivaled Donald Trump's. Tony did everything he could to shake the man but failed. He then wheedled, pled and lied to Chester in order to get him off his back. Nothing worked. Fed up, Tony resorted to threatening the agent, and when he saw a glint of fear in his dull brown eyes thought he'd made some headway, but the agent never left Tony's side.

It turned out that Special Agent Chester was not only very good at his job, but that he was far more afraid of letting down Gibbs than he was of Tony's threats.

Jethro expertly removed Tony's shirt and began to work on the zipper of his pants, despite the anxious protests coming from his lover's mouth. "Jethro," Tony whispered. "We can't…" Licking and then sucking on Tony's neck and eliciting a series of breathy moans, Jethro ignored Tony's feeble attempt to push him away. "Boss, don't…oh Jesus…where'd you learn to do that?"

Gibbs leaned back only long enough to strip off his T-shirt. "Why the hell are you whispering, DiNozzo?" He didn't wait or a reply, going back to where he'd left off. The sounds coming out of Tony's mouth were intense but not as loud as usual.

"C'mon, Jethro, you're killing me here."

Gibbs pushed Tony onto the bed and shut him up with a long, wet kiss. When they both stopped long enough to gasp for air, Tony whispered insistently, "Gibbs!"

Jethro rolled to one side and stopped his attempt to make love to Tony. Barely holding in his patience, he growled, "_What_ is the matter?"

Tony glanced at the door, which was not only shut and locked, but was made of heavy oak. "Chester…"

"For Chrissake…Chester is in the kitchen eating all of our leftovers. Can you just stop thinking about him?"

"And your dad?"

Gibbs ran a hand through his hair. With exaggerated patience he said, "He's getting hard of hearing, Tony. He cannot hear us. And even if he did, I don't really give a shit." He ran one hand down Tony's bare arm and softened his tone. "I missed you. Missed having this…our time together." Tony had come back from Mexico drained and frustrated, blaming himself for losing sight of both Alejandro Rivera and the now-wounded Mike Franks. Gibbs blamed someone else altogether. "I'm just happy to have you back." Gibbs didn't add 'in one piece' though they both heard those words in their minds.

Tony nuzzled Jethro's throat as if to assure him that everything was fine, back to normal, that there weren't two heavily armed guards outside keeping a sharp eye out for a female Mexican drug lord bearing an automatic weapon. Tony chuckled and to Jethro's inquiring look, he said, "Just thought of a name for one of McPulpfiction's books. _Killer Cartel Chicks of DC_." Jethro smiled but shook his head and Tony knew enough not to mention business again, not while in the bedroom. "Sorry, Jethro." He kissed the older man's lips and nibbled along his jawline. "Rule number twenty?"

Jethro murmured, "Twenty-five. No business in the bedroom. Twenty is…no debating with the boss." He grinned and flung a leg across Tony. "Can we stop talking now? I'm gonna have to make up a new rule that prohibits citing any rules in the bedroom."

Tony's eyes lit up. "Maybe we need to start a whole new section that covers only bedroom rules."

"Hell no, DiNozzo. There's only one rule in the bedroom and you know what it is."

Tony smiled and asked, "No crackers in bed?"

"Well, there is that," Gibbs conceded.

"Uh, always keep lots of lube in stock?" Tony waggled his eyebrows and reached for the large tube on the bedside table.

"Not the one I was thinkin' of."

Tony made a big show of thinking hard, wrinkling his brow, making hmm noises until he received a tap on the top of his head. "Hey! Oh…I know…" He grinned. "The rule that says there's only one boss." Softer, he said, "I don't need any rule to remind me of that, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I knew you were the boss the moment I laid eyes on you."

Gibbs' reply was to pull Tony close and kiss him deeply, gently tracing the length of his back with his hand, losing himself in the sensual feeling of Tony's responses. After a while they separated, only long enough to shed their pants and boxers, but when Gibbs reached to take up where they left off, Tony asked in a quiet voice, "You remember when we first met?"

Gibbs let out a little sigh. He knew he'd get no peace until Tony got whatever was on his mind out into the open. He squinted at the ceiling. "Uh, in Baltimore?"

Tony jabbed him in the ribs. "No, I mean when you picked me up in Ohio. Not that you picked me up exactly, although I guess in a way you _did_ pick me up, but what I meant is more like took me on that road trip." Tony gave a small smile at the memory. "You were my bodyguard."

With a soft harrumph, Gibbs rolled his eyes. "You were never in any danger." But, at the time, almost twenty years ago, they hadn't known that. It was the only time that Gibbs had known Tony's father to do the right thing. DiNozzo may have sent someone else to take care of his son, but by doing so had revealed that he did care for Tony, on some level.

Gibbs had stretched the trip into two days, taking back roads when driving along the highway became boring. It was the first time in months he'd tolerated…no, _enjoyed_ someone else's company. He found it strange at the time that he became attached to a college kid, no matter that he was tall and lean, with understanding green eyes, a beautiful smile, and a bright future ahead of him. He remembered Tony's insolent, challenging ways, his truthful and inquisitive nature, and the annoying chatter that sometimes seemed to be never-ending and was occasionally endearing.

And he also remembered, once Tony had been safely delivered to his uncle's doorstep and he'd driven down to DC alone, how keenly he'd missed the young man. It was like losing a family member all over again. He had said a quick good-bye, unable to do more than hug Tony, quick and hard. He'd stripped the clinging hands away from his waist and had almost run for the safety of his car.

It wasn't until that moment that Gibbs made the decision to follow Mike Franks' suggestion, after all, and apply to NCIS. Meeting Tony had been enough to give him a push in the right direction. The boy had given him enough hope to combat the bleakness that was defining his life.

Jethro breathed in the scent of Tony's shampoo, the ache in his heart easing, as it had - a little - back in '91. "You didn't need taking care of. You didn't need…me."

"What? I did so." Tony was affronted. "I did need you. You took care of me, made sure I slept well and ate right the whole trip. Talked to me about sports and family and…" Tony took Jethro's face in both of his hands and delivered a kiss to his lips. "…and rules. I hated every mile that took us closer to New York. I just wanted to stay with you, to learn from you. About you. I wanted for it to never end."

"I know you did, Tony. It was a hard time for me…meeting you helped." Gibbs stroked a hand down Tony's head, smoothing his hair, soothing the man he'd come to love more than anything. "Looks like you got what you wanted after all."

"I got you."

"Damn right you did."

"Why?"

"You know why," Gibbs said with a frown.

"I know." Tony ducked his head and said in a muffled voice, "I want…I need to hear it anyway."

Gibbs raised Tony's face so he could look into his eyes. "Because I knew that boy was going to grow up to be something good, Tony. Because I love the man you become when things get bad. That's when you are at your very best."

Their kiss was affirming, and loving, and just as it became more passionate and Gibbs' mouth demanded more, Tony pulled back. "Wait. Can we get rid of Chester now? You're my bodyguard, Gibbs. And I'll watch your back. I don't need anyone else." He raked his nails down Gibbs' back, enjoying the resulting gasp.

"Yes, fine Tony, we get rid of Chester. And you can call me your bodyguard or whatever the hell you want to, but you'd better remember one thing. You will do as I say, exactly as I say, and you will do it when I tell you to. Got that? There will be no debate. Rule number twenty. Now, can we please have sex?"

Tony sidled closer and with a grin said, "Thought you'd never ask."


	3. Chapter 3

Genre: Slash, Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Warnings include language, slashy situations  
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for further exploration.  
Spoilers: Up to beginning of season 8  
Summary: Tony meets Gibbs in 1991 and in 2010 the man's still guarding his body. Each story consists of 2 parts.

**The Bodyguard**

**Chapter 3 - The Diner**

May, 1992

_ If you don't have good dreams, you got nightmares._

_~ Boogie, in the film, Diner, 1982_

"Hey, DiNozzo, there's a dude downstairs asking for you."

Tony halted in mid-tweak of his hair styling, a tube of hair gel in his hand, and turned away from the mirror to look at his roommate, Barry. A glance at the clock told him it was 10:45. Sort of late for callers, even on a Saturday night. Cautiously he asked, "Is he well dressed?" He could not bring himself to ask outright if it was his father. Arriving unannounced might be his father's style, but not at a college dorm. Dad would pick a neutral location if he wanted to see him. But seeing that Tony hadn't seen his father since the end of last summer, and had only spoken to him, briefly and angrily, on the phone twice since then, he didn't think it could be him.

Barry shook his head and leaned against the frame of the door that was open to the busy corridor. This was a big night with plenty of celebrations and parties going on. "No, he looks like…"

Tony asked, "Like what?"

"Like a cop. You let another cow loose in the science lab without telling your buddy, DiNozzo?"

With a grin, Tony shook his head. "No, but we can think up something good for our next prank." A cop? He quickly cast his mind back to his recent activities and tried to think of anything that might warrant a cop turning up at his door. But then, if it were official business, wouldn't the man be at his door flashing a badge and not waiting downstairs asking about him? "What'd he look like, other than a cop?"

"No uniform," Barry said. He slouched into the room and didn't bother to move any of his clothes, papers or books off his unmade bed before he sat down on it. Tony's half of the room was neat, surprisingly so. His roomie had shrugged off his neatness as being a by-product of years of boarding and military schools, but somehow it didn't seem to match the free-styling ways of Tony DiNozzo. "He's all in gray. Gray suit, gray hair. Bet that bulge under his arm is a big gray gun."

Tony dabbed a little more gel on his hair and was about to ask for more details when there was a knock on the wood surround of the open door and there stood the cop, as described, dressed all in gray. Startled, all Tony could take in was the man's blue eyes. "Gibbs." The name escaped Tony's lips, almost in a whisper. Then, louder, "Gibbs!"

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stood there for a minute, looking over Tony, his roommate and the small dorm room in what appeared to be a detached way. When his gaze slipped back to Tony and their eyes met once again, Gibbs gave a slight nod and a suggestion of a smile. "DiNozzo. Can we have a word?"

Realizing he was standing there like an idiot, grinning with a tube of hair gel in hand, Tony shook himself. "Sure…sure." It struck him that Gibbs may be bearing bad news and Tony's heart did an uneven dance.

Gibbs saw the flash of fear in Tony's eyes and immediately said, "Relax. I'm not here on business." He looked pointedly at Tony's roommate and back to the young man he'd come to see. "Let me take you for coffee."

It sounded like an order, but Tony didn't mind. He quickly introduced Gibbs to Barry then grabbed his red and white Ohio State jacket. He led the way downstairs and out, shouldering his way through crowds of students, most in a celebratory mood and somewhat inebriated state, many congratulating Tony on that night's basketball win. "There's a place a couple of miles from here," Tony suggested. He added, almost apologetically, "I'm sorta hungry and it's the nearest place with real food. It's just a diner."

"I'll drive," Gibbs said. "I'm not keeping you from any parties, am I?"

He was but Tony didn't care. "I'd rather get some food."

The implication that he'd rather spend time with Gibbs was not lost on the older man. He led the way to where his car was parked and as soon as they were on the road and Tony had given him directions, Gibbs said, "Caught the last half of the game. You played well."

Glad that the interior of the car was so dark that Gibbs couldn't see the way his face reddened at the praise, Tony swallowed and said, "Thanks."

"You cut it pretty close with your last layup, DiNozzo. You hot-dogging it for maximum effect?"

"I was being blocked. If I coulda got a clean shot it would have made it in before the buzzer," Tony explained somewhat defensively. "It was cause it bounced on the rim. I didn't think it was going to go in, but then I heard the crowd cheering. That's when I knew it was good." It had been a good game, one of their best team efforts, he thought. "Coach Ayers said we had to work together to beat the Tar Heels, and he was right. Did you see Prentiss' offensive moves? He was on top of his game tonight."

Gibbs nodded. "80 to 73. It was a solid game. Looks like you're a scrapper out there on the court." He glanced over at Tony and gave him a smile that was incrementally wider than the one that had accompanied his greeting in the dorm. "Glad I saw you in action, Tony." The resulting look on Tony's face, a combination of surprise, pride and satisfaction, made Gibbs glad he had come.

Once they were at the diner and seated, the two men discussed the menu and then ordered. The service was brisk and good. Gibbs wasn't much of a conversationalist but Tony kept up his end while they waited for their food, talking about the game, sports and college life for a while. After their food came - roast chicken with rice and black beans, and a large cup of black coffee for Gibbs, two sides of fries, and a huge plate of spaghetti Bolognese, along with a glass of milk for Tony - they ate in silence for a while.

The diner was pretty busy considering the late hour. A couple of college girls stopped by on their way out and Tony flirted with them without any effort. Gibbs sat back and watched the young man at work, keeping his amusement to himself. There was no doubt that Tony was as practiced with girls as he was with sports. When the girls reluctantly said good night and left, Gibbs wondered if he hadn't been present which one would have been warming Tony's bed that night. Maybe both?

When they were alone again, Tony pushed his food around on his plate for a while. Eventually he asked, "What made you come to the game? And out to eat with me?"

Gibbs drank some coffee and then said matter-of-factly, "I was hungry."

Tony looked up in disbelief at the too-simple explanation. "Oh, so you were just in the neighborhood?"

Gibbs smiled sheepishly. "I was in the area. Finished a job and was heading to DC, then back to California. Thought I'd see how you're doing."

"How is Colonel Hargrave doing these days? He send you out on any more jobs?" Tony could still hear the sharp commands of the president of RI Military Academy, as he stood before the assembly of cadets in his dress uniform. Tony recited under his breath, "Adversity causes some men to break; others to break records."

Something that passed for amusement twinkled in Gibbs' eyes. "You're fishing, DiNozzo. I haven't heard from the colonel since I saw you last summer. Job was done and I walked away." He must have realized that sounded dismissive, because he added, "It was a favor, Tony, but one I enjoyed doing."

Tony dropped his gaze to his food, trying to hide the smile Gibbs' admission caused him to reveal. He had wondered at the time if Gibbs had been doing a favor for the colonel or if it had been the other way around. It had seemed that Gibbs was in a bad place back then, moving without purpose between bad and worse. But looking at the man now, it was apparent whatever had been troubling him only months earlier had eased up somewhat. He still had that walking wounded air about him, but he did look better. Maybe Gibbs was simply better at hiding whatever was eating at him. "Yeah, I enjoyed our road trip, too." Tony ate a few mouthfuls and asked, "What kind of job were you doing? Being a bodyguard?"

"No. I'm at NCIS now. Naval Criminal Investigative-."

Tony nodded and finished up Gibbs' sentence. "Investigative Service. You're a Navy cop." Gibbs had mentioned when they were on their road trip last year that he was considering applying for a job with NCIS. Tony never had any doubt that Gibbs would go for, and get the job.

"A Navy cop? Yeah, sort of."

"Are you the boss?"

"Uh, no."

Tony nodded confidently. "You will be."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at the kid's confidence in his leadership skills, and said gruffly, "You seem pretty sure of that, DiNozzo."

Sticking a fry in his mouth, Tony said, "Yup." He chewed, swallowed and then grinned. "I can tell you'd make a good teacher. Got a lot of patience."

"A teacher?" Gibbs let out a huff of breath. "Right now I'm a probie."

Tony knew that Gibbs had been a sniper when in the Marines, and had been an MP while at Camp Lejeune. When they'd been on their little road trip, Gibbs had described to him what investigation of a crime scene entailed, and what it took to be a sniper. He'd also told Tony a story or two about his experiences in the Corps as a gunnery sergeant, and then he'd started to talk about his tour in Desert Storm. That's when the ex-Marine had faltered and fallen into a quiet spell. After that Gibbs concentrated on driving, letting Tony do the talking while he only responded to direct questions.

It was the way that Gibbs had treated him on the journey they'd taken the previous summer that had taught Tony about the man. He'd been curt at times, and had ordered him about, but Gibbs had also asked Tony questions. He had shared and listened and had never talked down to the younger man. He had been kind in ways that mattered. For the first time in his life Tony had spent time with an adult who had been genuinely interested in him as a person.

In response Tony had developed a crush on Gibbs.

As they ate Gibbs told Tony a bit about the procedure of an NCIS crime scene investigation, enjoying the eager attention the young man gave him. He'd been taken with Tony from the start and even though the kid had almost driven him crazy with all his talking during that long drive from Ohio to New York, he had missed him fiercely once they had parted. He put it down to having been lonelier than he'd thought he was. Gibbs had barely spoken to anyone since he'd been notified of the deaths of Shannon and Kelly, but he'd opened up a little to Tony and within the short time they'd spent together that crack had widened considerably. Now, sitting opposite the young man, just talking and sharing a meal, made him feel good, like he was at home.

At some point the conversation gave Gibbs an opening and he asked something he'd been wondering about. "Did your dad straighten out that trouble he was in?" He hoped the older DiNozzo had learned to keep his business problems under control, if only to prevent Tony from being put in the path of danger. He'd looked into the elder DiNozzo's dealings once he'd joined NCIS. Gibbs had not liked what he'd found out. "Does he often come to your games?"

Tony stopped eating and became very still, all emotion draining from his face, his eyes darkening. He appeared to be concentrating on something very interesting on his plate but Gibbs could see a muscle twitching in his jaw. It was such a change from the animated young man of only seconds ago that Gibbs was concerned. "Hey, Tony, you okay?" He reached out and touched Tony's chin with a couple of fingers, gently urging him to look up.

Tony's green eyes, usually so expressive, were flat. It was as if he didn't even see Gibbs, they were so blank and far away. As quickly as he'd changed from vibrant to lifeless, Tony changed back to his usual outgoing self with a quick smile, wide and open.

Tony grinned and helped himself to a couple of Gibbs' fries. "Hey, have you ever see the film _Diner_? It's about a group of high-school buddies from Baltimore who meet up a week between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve in 1959. So they hang out in a diner."

If Gibbs hadn't seen that back and forth transformation with his own eyes he never would have known that there was something terribly wrong going on inside Tony's head. Witnessing those few seconds of withdrawal chilled Gibbs to the core. To think that the mere mention of Tony's father had changed him so drastically was troublesome. The ex-Marine was suddenly reminded of the children he'd seen in Bosnia and the Middle East, victims of war, hopelessness marking them with bleak, dead eyes.

Gibbs watched the young man sitting across from him as he started a discourse on a film, trying to find any residue of the reticent Tony. If it was still there, it was well hidden. He wondered if Tony even knew how his face had changed, how his whole body had tensed up. Was it just a flash of something dark in an otherwise sunny disposition, or was it possible that Tony was spending his every waking hour covering up his true self? And Tony had never responded to Gibbs' questions about his father; it was as if he'd blanked him out.

"There's no coherent plot, really," Tony said, finishing up his meal. "Its episodic, concentrates on character, but there's this great scene when the friends take bets on whether a regular customer, this huge guy, can eat his way through the entire menu."

Gibbs knew, all too well, the price of living a lie, of acting as if everything was fine when all he wanted to do was let it all out, to yell, to strike out, to hurt somebody. He'd become used to hiding his true self, and it was second nature now, but he'd seen a war's worth of death and senseless cruelty. His family had been murdered…taken from him. Gibbs felt emotion squeeze his heart, both for the loss of his wife and child, and with worry over whatever Tony was going through on his own. What had happened to him to make him so? He'd had a bad feeling about DiNozzo, Sr., since their first phone contact and it hadn't improved any since then.

Tony waved a fry in the air as he spoke. "This means this guy has to eat his way through appetizers, side dishes, pancakes, pork chops, pies and everything. There's a hundred things on that menu. These friends spend hours eating greasy food, drinking bad coffee and arguing over movies, music and women. Great film."

Whatever had come over Tony, it was long gone and apparently not about to make another appearance. When he reached for another fry Gibbs pushed the plate closer to him. "You always this hungry? Go ahead. Finish them up."

Tony nodded. "I'm always really hungry after a game. I can't decide if I'm going to pursue basketball or football but I've already had a football scout approach me." He leaned forward eagerly. "I don't care so long as I get a chance at a sports career. Coach says I need to weigh my options carefully."

"There's nothing wrong with having dreams, Tony." Tony was tall and lanky enough for basketball, but he looked too lightweight for football. "Your coach sounds like a man with a head on his shoulders. You should listen to his advice." Gibbs thought that he'd better check back on Tony and make sure he had someone to talk to, especially if what his gut told him about Tony's father was right, that DiNozzo, Sr. was selfish, and something worse.

"I'd listen to you, too, Gibbs, if you have any advice to give me."

"Keep up your studies. Even jocks need to use their brains." Gibbs handed Tony his card, even though he'd made sure he'd had his numbers when they'd parted last summer. "I'm only a phone call away. Day or night."

Tony stared at the card for a minute, then tucked it safely away in his pocket. He said in a quiet voice, "Thanks, Gibbs. That means a lot to me." In the blink of an eye Tony hid his serious side away just as if he'd tucked his feelings in his pocket alongside Gibbs' business card. His face lit up, showing enthusiasm once again. "Anyway, in _Diner_, Mickey Rourke plays Boogie, who places bets on everything. Everything! He leads a carefree life, flitting from one romance to another. Gotta say he has balls. Then one of the characters gives his fiancée a football test. Over a hundred questions on it. If she doesn't get a good score he won't marry her." Tony laughed and slapped the table. "It's virtually impossible to get a perfect score. You can tell he's setting her up to fail." He shook his head at the stupidity and cleverness of it all.

"Maybe I should get hold of a copy of that test," Gibbs said with a wry smile.

"Hell, I don't care if a girl knows about football or not, so long as she's ready to make out during half-time." Tony changed gears again, saying, almost shyly, "We have a game in Charlottesville in two weeks."

Gibbs couldn't promise anything, particularly as he knew that if he couldn't attend due to work, more than a promise would be broken. "I'd like that. I'll try, Tony."

Their eyes met and Tony seemed to be searching for something in his face. After a beat the young man nodded. "That's all I'd ask." Tony motioned over his shoulder to the waitress. "Apple pie a la mode for me." He turned to Gibbs with a broad smile. "What do you want, Jethro?"

Suddenly and inexplicably pleased at Tony's use of his first name, Gibbs smiled. "I think I'm fine, Tony, just fine," he said.


	4. Chapter 4

Genre: Slash, Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Warnings include language, slashy situations  
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for further exploration.  
Spoilers: Up to beginning of season 8  
Summary: Tony meets Gibbs in 1991 and in 2010 the man's still guarding his body. Each story consists of 2 parts.

**The Bodyguard**

**Chapter 4 - The Test**

September, 2010, Alexandria, VA

_Living alone has some terrific advantages, you can eat, sleep, go in and out, and burp whenever you want. It also has one terrific disadvantage – when you lose something, you've got no one to blame but yourself._

_~Thomas Magnum_

They had a quiet dinner together, although for a change their lack of conversation was not due to physical or mental exhaustion. The two men were simply content to be together. It had become habit for Tony and Jethro to avoid talking about work when at home. Gibbs' house was their sanctuary, a place they both needed, sometimes desperately, to remain free from the conflicts of the outside world.

Even though they had enjoyed the company of Jethro's dad, and Jackson loved spending time with his son, there had come a time when the older man wanted to return to his home. Now that Paloma Reynosa had been taken out, and Jethro had returned from Stillwater where he'd helped his dad renovate the damaged general store, things were back to normal.

Tony still flushed when he recalled how, when Jackson had first arrived at Jethro's home, he'd spoken loudly and clearly to the old man for three whole days. That was before Gibbs' dad took him aside for a little one-on-one talk.

"Tony," Jack said kindly, "I may be getting a bit long in the tooth, but the one faculty I still have in perfect working order is my hearing. And it will continue to be good, God willing, providing you stop shouting at me all the time. I'm not deaf."

"But…" Tony had pointed upstairs in the direction of the bedroom he shared with Jethro. "But…Jethro said you couldn't hear us…" Then he realized that each time he and Jethro had sex, or made love, which was the way that Tony really thought of it, he'd believed what Jethro had said - that his father was deaf and couldn't hear them. "Oh…Oh shit!" Mortified, Tony could feel the heat rising up his neck and staining his cheeks.

Jackson patted his forearm. "Don't worry, son. Sounded like you young'uns were having a real good time."

"It must have been a tough job, cleaning up the store," Tony said as he cleared the table, knowing that when Jethro had viewed the devastation from the Reynosa men's heavy gunfire, it had brought home how damned lucky Jackson was to be alive.

"We were able to salvage a lot of the goods. We replaced the plate glass and plugged up a lot of little holes, too." Gibbs hunched over his after-dinner coffee, looking grim.

"I hope the customers don't find any slugs in their box of Wheat-Os instead of a secret decoder ring," Tony replied. He made light of it now but they were all lucky to be alive. It was still tough for Tony to look out on Jethro's back yard where Paloma Reynosa had killed one of the agents on protection detail.

After washing the dinner dishes Tony relaxed on the couch to watch a film. He didn't mind if Jethro didn't watch with him; it was enough that they were in the same room.

Jethro settled in his easy chair with a good light over his shoulder to help him see his crossword puzzle. When he sensed the movie was running close to its conclusion he shut the crossword puzzle book, laid his reading glasses aside, and unassumingly moved over to sit next to Tony. The movie was one of those old black and white Myrna Loy and William Powell comedies that didn't hold his attention like they used to. Jethro was more interested in the man at his side, now leaning against him even though his eyes were riveted on the large TV screen.

Tony laughed at the comedy and glanced at Gibbs, then back at the movie, but he casually reached out and took hold of his lover's hand.

Their fingers intertwined and Gibbs gave Tony's hand a squeeze then he slid down a bit so his head rested on the back of the couch. Jethro was almost asleep by the time the credits were rolling across the screen, but the soft caress of Tony's lips against his mouth made Jethro smile and react with a sound of pleasure. Tony leaned into him, taking advantage of the older man's pliable state, his mouth working its usual magic.

"Mmm, nice," Jethro said sleepily when they moved slightly apart. He reached for Tony, his hand light on his neck to draw him back for another kiss. But when Tony retreated a little and considered him with a slight frown, Jethro asked, "What's the matter? You want to take this upstairs?"

"Well, yeah, but that's not it. I…oh, never mind." Tony started to rise but Jethro pulled him back.

"Hey. Tell me." Jethro knew he got better results with direct orders. He waited patiently while Tony looked down at their still-clasped hands.

"You were really nice to those probies this week. You're not supposed to be nice."

Gibbs sent him a sideways glance but only said, "They were interns."

"Semantics. I get the feeling all three of them will take the next step and become probies soon enough."

"You worrying about your job, DiNozzo? That kid, Conrad, he caught on fast." The corner of Gibbs' mouth quirked with the beginning of a smile. "At least you'll always have seniority over them," he assured his agent. He held out one arm and beckoned for Tony to join him once more. "C'mere."

Tony sank down onto the couch and relaxed into Gibbs' arms with a sigh. "Was I ever that fresh-faced and eager?"

That brought out a chuckle that resounded in Jethro's chest. "You are still eager. First time I saw that light in your eyes was on our little road trip. Next time I seem to remember you were eager for a sports career. By the time you were job-hopping in law enforcement and I took you under my wing, you were more…impatient, looking for something else. You always were hungry." Tony had also been a bit lost and needed the direction that Gibbs and NCIS offered him, but Jethro didn't say that aloud.

"And these kids aren't eager?"

"They're children. They're fresh-faced and innocent. My team is made up of well-honed agents who work together like a well-oiled machine." He said that with more than a degree of pride.

"Abby's an innocent," Tony pointed out as he ran one hand across Jethro's chest. He tweaked one of his nipples through his shirt, eliciting a small hiss. "And I'm still hungry," he added enticingly in a low voice. "And eager."

"Huh. One thing, nobody could call you innocent, DiNozzo." Jethro unbuttoned Tony's shirt, reached in and rubbed his thumb in circles around Tony's nipple in retaliation. "Abby isn't exactly what I'd call innocent, either. More like wide-eyed and enthusiastic."

"I can be enthus-."

Jethro effectively stopped Tony from replying by pressing him into the couch, using his hands and mouth to silence him. The kisses Jethro delivered brought the desired results. By the time he'd finished, Tony's eyes were closed and there was a sated expression on his face.

Tony's eyes opened slowly, just a little. "What…were we talking…?"

"Done talking. Bed. Now." Gibbs rose and hauled Tony up and onto his feet.

Once they were both standing Tony wrapped his arms around Jethro and leaned heavily against him. His nuzzled Jethro's neck, all hot breath and warm tongue working at his skin. "God, you taste good." Tony shifted his weight then smiled and angled his head for a deeper kiss, full of tenderness and longing.

Jethro reciprocated, using his tongue to best advantage. The resulting sound from Tony, somewhere between a sigh and a moan in the back of his throat, made Jethro grip his hips to pull them closer.

Tony smiled and asked, "You want to show me how well oiled this machine is?" He rubbed his pelvis against Jethro's, his eyes widening at the quick response. "Hey boss, I think you left a power tool in your pocket," he teased. He reached down to cup Jethro's burgeoning erection and made a sound of appreciation. "Mmmm."

"I don't use power tools. It's a screwdriver and I'm not getting it out until we're upstairs, Tony," Gibbs warned. He didn't mind some foreplay on the couch, or in the kitchen, or workshop, but he was getting too old to find pleasure in full-body-contact sex anywhere except in his own bed. Even when Tony had retained his own apartment he'd never liked making love there. He was a bit territorial. And possessive. And set in his ways.

"Then you'll screw me?" Tony's arms were loose around Gibbs' back, his hips swaying a little side to side, enjoying the friction. He kissed Jethro's willing lips and pled, "Promise?"

"Only if you shut up."

They kissed some more until Tony broke away to ask, "Jethro?"

Sigh. "What?"

"Why were you acting so…nice? I mean it's really not like you."

The way Tony said that wasn't intended to be hurtful. Gibbs knew damn well he was usually grouchy and curt and had never before exhibited any patience for interns. "I don't know. Maybe I'm mellowing. These kids should get a chance to follow their dreams."

Tony looked him in the eyes for a minute, then his face softened. "That's really nice of you."

Gibbs barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "What? You expect me to scare the shit out of potential recruits?"

"Well, yeah." The head slap he got in reply was not totally unexpected. Then Jethro stroked Tony's head, smoothing his hair down where it stuck up. Tony grinned. "You can be quite a bear…"

Gibbs could tell there was more, a 'but' in there somewhere. "But?" He knew if they didn't play out the entire conversation that Tony would just start it up again, probably when they were in bed, naked, when he was raring to go. Jethro did not like interruptions once he got going. "Get it said, Tony. I'm an old man. I can't hold this forever."

"Oh yes you can, Jethro." Tony grinned and rubbed his hand over Jethro's jeans-covered erection.

"Not if you do that, I can't." Jethro moved Tony's hand away and hugged him tighter. He gave him a deep kiss, then whispered against his mouth, "Just say it." Jethro's' tongue and teeth worked along his jawline, distracting Tony.

Tony drew in a ragged breath then said, "But…I should have remembered."

Gibbs frowned. "Remembered what?"

"Years ago, when we ate at that diner near campus." He could see that Gibbs was wondering what the hell he was bringing that up for after all this time. "You sat there and talked to me."

"And?"

Tony gave a little shrug and dropped his gaze. "Nobody'd ever done that before. I mean, you listened. Really _listened_ to me. You were nice." He buried his face in Jethro's neck, taking strength from the man he loved.

Gibbs also recalled the way he'd almost messed up by mentioning Tony's father during that late-night dinner after Tony's winning basketball game. It took years before he really understood what the problem was between Tony and his old man, and even longer before Tony confided in him and was able to work through it. Today Tony was able to deal with his dad, but Senior would never know how much he'd lost by rejecting his own son all those years. The bastard never took the time to know his own son and hurt him often and badly. Gibbs still shook with anger when he thought about it.

His voice suddenly husky, Jethro said, "Damn it, Tony, you talked so much that night I couldn't do anything _but_ listen." He took the edge off his words by adding, "Even back then I was crazy about you. Now I can't imagine…I can't live without you. You know that…hey, look at me." Trying not to make his request sound too much like an order, Jethro said softly, "C'mon, look at me, Tony."

Tony raised his eyes to meet Jethro's blue eyes, smiling damply. "I'm looking at you, the most generous man I know."

"Yeah well, my generosity has about reached its limits, so how about we mosey up those stairs and you can show me just how grateful you are." He carefully wiped the moisture from Tony's lashes with a thumb and kissed him gently. "You do know that we would not be standing here today if you hadn't passed my test."

"What test?"

"The football test from that movie you were telling me about. _Diner_, wasn't it? The test that's designed to sort the wheat from the chaff. A proving ground for potential partners."

Tony laughed aloud. "Man, I forgot about that. You made me answer all those sports questions. I still can't believe I got them all right." He saw a funny look pass over Jethro's face and he stilled. "What? I got a perfect score on that test," Tony protested.

Jethro bit his lip and gazed at the ceiling. "Uh…" He sat up retaining his hold on Tony's hands.

Could Leroy Jethro Gibbs be looking _guilty_? Tony moved back as far as Jethro would let him. "No…don't tell me…you didn't _let_ me win, did you?"

Sheepishly, Jethro shrugged and said, "Let's just say I wasn't about to lose out on having you just because you missed a few answers about football trivia." He pulled Tony back into his arms, hugging him tightly. "You don't think I was going to give you up that easy, do you?"

"Jethro…" Tony knew he had guilt written all over his face. "Oh hell, I have to tell you. I cheated on the test. I wasn't going to let my messing up a football test ruin my chances of being with you. You see, I can't live without you, either."

Jethro narrowed his eyes and studied Tony. After a long moment he said, "Then we'd better get upstairs so you can take a make-up test." He tugged Tony along with him up the stairs and to their bedroom.

"Make-up test?"

"Yup, only this time there's no cheating."

"I'll need a lot of coaching."

"I can teach you."

"See, I always said you were a good teacher, Jethro."

Gibbs dragged Tony over to the bed, helped him undress and pushed him down onto the mattress. He tore off his own clothes and eagerly straddled his lover. "Guess it's time for the old dog to teach you a lesson or two then." Tony's response was a groan as Jethro started to show him, from the heart, exactly what he meant to him. Neither of them spoke again for a long, long time.


	5. Chapter 5

Genre: Slash, Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Warnings include language, slashy situations  
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for further exploration.  
Spoilers: Including season 8  
Summary: Tony meets Gibbs in 1991 and in 2010 the man's still guarding his body. Each story consists of 2 parts.

**The Bodyguard**

**Chapter 5 - One Bad Move**

Columbus, Ohio, 1993

_Even in the Hawaiian sunshine, football, to me, smelt like fall in New England. Some place there should be a prep band playing, pretty girls in short skirts, and I was 21 with an arm that could throw passes all afternoon._

_~ Thomas Magnum_

"One bad move," Tony muttered. "One bad move and I'm screwed for life."

Gibbs finally made it to one of his games after canceling three times. On two occasions he'd called to say he was stuck in the middle of a case; the third time he simply didn't show up as planned. No reason given.

So what happened when Gibbs finally made it to the stadium? Did he see Tony playing like a champion, making a stunning touchdown and showing those Wolverines just who was the best? Well, yes he did. But then, in the last quarter, Gibbs bore witness to Tony DiNozzo making a spectacularly bad move in front of 95,000 fans and going down hard. Okay, he was tackled, sideswiped, really. He never saw it coming either. The result was that OSU was subjected to a humiliating loss against their longtime rivals, University of Michigan, and Tony suffered a broken leg and concussion.

Tony just hoped it was not a portent of things to come.

The first thing to return was his vision, although it was decidedly fuzzy. The second thing to come back was sound: beeping machines, someone barking orders and the bustling activity that could not be mistaken for anything but the controlled havoc of an emergency room. Hard on the heels of sight and sound came pain - a lot of pain. Tony groaned and lifted his head but was held down by a firm hand on his shoulder.

Emergency room. Fuck! In place of his football gear was a flimsy gown. There was a needle stuck in his arm, and oxygen being fed through tubes placed in his nostrils. Tony tried to remove the offensive tubing but someone took hold of his forearm and held it tight by his side. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes and saw a man's face hovering over him. "Gibbs?"

"Yeah, it's me, Tony. Don't touch anything."

He tried to nod, swallowed hard and twisted to one side as his stomach lurched. There was a basin and a supportive arm, and then water to rinse out his mouth. A cloth wiped off his sweaty face. It was Gibbs, tending to him like it was his regular job to take care of puking college kids every day of the week. Tony was suddenly, deeply, embarrassed. "'m fine." The moan that followed, along with tears brought on by the agonizing pain in his left leg, put an end to any pretense of being fine. "Shit, my leg," he sobbed.

"Fracture of the left fibula. Could be worse," announced the doctor, unaware of how unsympathetic he sounded. He went on about procedures and hospitalization but his patient didn't listen to the clinical jargon that droned on and on. Tony closed his eyes, shutting out the bright lights, the doctor and his attendants.

He effectively shut out Gibbs, too, who had been looking down at him with emotions that didn't belong in his blue eyes - concern and pity and something else that was indefinable. Tony didn't want Gibbs to look at him like that, like he'd messed up, even if he had.

If the older man looked at him too closely he'd see the fear he was struggling to hide deep inside. A broken leg meant an end to playing the rest of the season, and worse, it meant he'd miss his one chance to impress the scouts. Now he'd never make it to the pros. Never even get the chance he'd dreamed of, to prove himself, to Gibbs, even to his father. Not that he cared about what Dad thought. Not really. Just wanted the old man to admit he was wrong.

One bad move and all of his dreams had been destroyed.

Tony slowly opened his eyes and looked around, trying to get his bearings. His brain felt like it was drowning in heavy syrup, reeling in slow motion. The game. Sacked. Hospital. Shit, he had a broken leg.

It was nighttime and he was in a too-brightly lit hospital room in Columbus, his leg encased in a cast and raised in a sling-type contraption. It throbbed badly, pain lurking just under the surface, muffled by meds.

There, beside his bed, sat Gibbs. Tony blinked heavily and licked his dry lips.

Gibbs, clad in jeans and sweatshirt, poured a glass of water and angled a straw into Tony's mouth. After drinking, Tony laid back with a small grunt. Gibbs was standing still, like he was at attention on a parade ground. What was he waiting for?

Gibbs frowned down at him. "You okay, Tony?"

Oh yeah, I'm just fucking great, he thought. How the hell do you think I feel? Tony took a calming breath. "Leg sorta aches."

"How's your head?"

It was then that Tony realized he had a bad headache and his eyes hurt, too. "Can you turn off the lights?" He raised his hand and it wasn't hard to find the lump on the back of his skull. Only so much a helmet can do when a couple of 250-pound Wolverines take you down at the same time.

Gibbs turned off the overhead lights, leaving on a bedside lamp. He pulled up a padded chair and settled in it, facing Tony, close enough that he could touch him, though he didn't.

After a while Tony said, "You don't have to stay, you know."

"I know."

Tony checked Gibbs out surreptitiously. He appeared relaxed, not really waiting for anything, more like he was hanging out. He kept his eyes on Tony most of the time, which was puzzling, because Gibbs wasn't looking at him like he expected him to speak, or perform, or confess. He seemed patient, almost content. Another weird thing to muse over. Tony's eyes roved around the room and then up to the IV pole with its two bags and tubing that fed clear liquids into his arm. Whatever was in them seemed to be working because he was feeling lightheaded and sort of out of it.

When he rolled his head on the pillow and met Gibbs' blue eyes again Tony felt compelled to say something. "You've got nice eyes, Gibbs." Shit, he hadn't meant to say that, but after a beat the older man bowed his head slightly as if in thanks.

"Same back at you, DiNozzo," he said with a twist to the corner of his mouth.

Tony felt a blush rising up his neck. "You don't have to stay here."

"You said that already, Tony. I know I don't have to. I _want_ to."

That made Tony feel warm inside but, as usual, he couldn't let well enough alone. "My father should be here soon. I'll be fine." He peered at the doorway expectantly.

Gibbs' face settled into a mask of sorts, like he was angry and trying to conceal it. Tony wondered what he'd said to make him look like that.

Gibbs shifted in the chair as if it was uncomfortable and cleared his throat. "I phoned your father as soon as you got out of surgery. He, uh, he can't make it."

Tony had known that his father wouldn't come, but on some level he'd hoped that for once his old man would show he cared, even a little bit. "Oh." What was there to say? He nodded and looked away, trying to hide the tears that pricked at his eyelids. "Yeah, he's really busy with work. He can't just drop everything he's doing 'cause I messed up…"

Gibbs leaned forward and placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. It was a simple gesture, meaning to console and to confirm that at least _he_ was there, and he wasn't about to leave anytime soon. "You didn't mess up, Tony."

He knew he'd messed up and no amount of denying it was going to change the facts. "We lost the game?" He had a feeling someone had already told him the final score but he'd been too out of it to recall.

Gibbs sat back and his hand dropped away, leaving Tony feeling lonely.

"It was a close game," Gibbs said. "And you did not mess up. You were sacked by that Wolverine, that Brad Pitt, and one of their linebackers. Nobody could have withstood that kind of battering. You made a good move but they made a better play. It happens. Learn from it."

Tony turned his head and met Gibbs' eyes, expecting to see the man was lying. He was pretty good at reading people, though Gibbs was a tough one to see through most of the time. He was getting better at seeing through him, though. It took practice and intuition mostly. Surprisingly, the ex-Marine seemed to be telling the truth. Or he believed what he was saying, anyway, so he could simply be delusional. "I'll be back on my feet and playing in a few weeks," Tony said bravely.

"Eight weeks plus therapy," Gibbs said with an apologetic shrug. "You need time to heal properly or you'll get injured again and then where will you be?"

"Eight weeks?" The football season would be over by then. He'd lost his chance, his only chance to break away from his father's rule. If he didn't make it into the pros he'd end up working for his old man. That was what his father expected. Tony had never really agreed to it, not in so many words, always believing something better would come up. "I need to get back to the team…" It would kill him to have to go back to New York and be under his father's rule for the rest of his life. He struggled to sit up a bit but failed.

Gibbs reached over to where Tony's hand rested on his lean stomach and squeezed his fingers gently. "Hey, there's always baseball to look forward to."

After a minute Tony added in a hopeful voice, "Or the swim team."

"How about soccer? Wrestling?"

"Maybe while my leg is healing I can do some sportscasting for the college radio station, WOSU. I did some my freshman year. Basketball. I was the color commentator." It wasn't the same as football, though. Man, this whole thing sucked. Except for Gibbs being there.

"Good idea. You do any boxing, DiNozzo?"

"No." He could picture Gibbs in the ring, gloves held high, jabbing, striking his opponent with powerful blows. "Did you learn to box in the Marines?"

Gibbs smiled at that. "No, I learned at our local boys' club, back home. The Marines don't teach you how to box. They teach you how to fight."

Tony was tired but he didn't want to stop talking with Gibbs. "You think you can teach me how to fight sometime, Gibbs?" He blinked heavily, barely able to keep his eyes open. He wondered where back home was for Gibbs.

"Sure, Tony. I'll teach you. You need to get some sleep because the nurse will be in here every couple of hours to check on you. Get some rest while you can."

"Okay." He looked at his hand resting on his stomach, Gibbs' calloused hand resting on top of it, warm and heavy. "You going home now?"

"I told you I'm not going' anywhere."

Tony's eyes closed but as he drifted off to sleep he heard Gibbs say softly, "You can't get rid of me that easily, kid."

"That's good 'cause I need someone to watch over me." Even with his eyes shut, Tony managed a goofy grin as he sang softly, "Follow my lead, oh, how I need…someone to watch over me." He roused himself enough to look at Gibbs once more, serious this time. "You gonna be my bodyguard again, boss?"

"Always, Tony," Gibbs said under his breath. Then he ordered gruffly, "Go to sleep." He sat by the bedside with Tony's hand resting in his own. Gibbs sighed deeply as the young man succumbed to sleep. The sight of Tony's pale face, the slight downturn of his mouth put there because of his hopes for the future being dashed, tugged at Gibbs' heart. He had a feeling if he kept this up he was going to make a bad move and then he'd be screwed for life.


	6. Chapter 6

Genre: Slash, Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Warnings include language, slashy situations  
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for further exploration.  
Spoilers: Including season 8  
Summary: Tony meets Gibbs in 1991 and in 2010 the man's still guarding his body. Each story consists of 2 parts.

**The Bodyguard**

**Chapter 6 - Subtitles**

Arlington, Virginia, 2010

_Terence Mann__: I'm going to beat you with a crowbar until you leave.  
Ray Kinsella: You can't do that.  
Terence Mann: There are rules here? No, there are no rules here._

_~ from the movie Field of Dreams, 1989_

Gibbs entered their bedroom bearing a mug of hot chamomile tea for Tony, who was sitting up in bed waiting for him. "You feeling better?"

He'd been nearly frantic earlier that day when Tony and Ziva were knocked flat by the bomb blast - until the smoke, reeking of chemicals and hot metal, had cleared. Then he saw Ziva lying on top of his lead agent, both of them laughing as if it was all a big joke. Gibbs hadn't missed how the Israeli woman had thrown herself on Tony to force him out of harm's way. He wasn't sure how badly Tony might have been hurt had he been standing when the explosive device blew sky high. It was entirely possible he might have been safe on the perimeter of the blast field, but the image of shrapnel tearing into Tony's flesh kept repeating itself in a disturbing loop.

Gibbs had sweated at how close a call it had been. His heart was still hammering in his chest when Tony - when both his agents - got to their feet, apparently unharmed. McGee had caught his boss puking behind the bomb squad truck, and had sent him a strange look but he had the sense to retreat without making a fuss.

Gibbs kicked himself. He'd allowed his emotions to get the better of him during an investigation and that, in turn, made him angry with himself. He'd been gruffer than usual with his agents until they'd all been checked out by the EMTs. They were unharmed, as were the spectators at the playing field, all lucky to have escaped serious injury, so he told himself to let it go. It wasn't an easy thing to do.

Tony had stood alongside Tim, chatting about _Field of Dreams _like a couple of old geezers at a family picnic reminiscing about the good old days. Gibbs wouldn't admit aloud that _Dreams_ was one of his favorite movies of all time - he was still off balance because Tony had come within inches of being blasted to hell yet there he was, standing around smiling and acting as if it was all nothing, a big fucking _nothing_. Gibbs had been so scared he'd felt like his heart was literally being ripped out of his chest the moment after the explosion. He'd been sure that Tony had been blasted into a thousand tiny pieces, so damned small that Ducky would have to collect the gory remains of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo in those little glass jars. He'd thought, for those few terrible seconds before the smoke cleared, that Tony was gone - dead - and that he'd been left alone with nobody to hold onto at night to scare the demons away.

Gibbs had eased up a bit when Ziva had persuaded him to play catch on the baseball field. He'd locked his fears away, knowing that no good would come from displaying any emotion in front of his team. Later on, when he was alone with Tony - only then could he let some of it out.

Long afterwards, when they finally made it home, he noticed how quickly Tony's energy flagged. Tony kept insisting he was fine, though those words hadn't carried any weight for years. Although there was no outward sign that Tony was adversely affected by the strong blast wave, other than sore shoulders, Gibbs pushed his lover towards the bathroom for a long hot shower and then gave him a massage before supper.

"Ducky says the tea'll help my throat," Tony said in a low, rasping voice. He sat back against his propped-up pillows, took the mug gratefully and sipped the steaming tea. Chamomile tea was not his favorite drink by any means, so he'd added a big spoonful of honey to make it palatable.

Gibbs slipped into bed next to Tony, careful not to jog him. "Ducky also said you were supposed to shut up for 24 hours. How about following that medical advice, DiNozzo?"

Tony spared Gibbs a sideways look. "Thought you liked the noises I make in bed, Jethro," he said with a wicked grin. His attempt to sound sexy failed when his words came out in a squeak.

Jethro shook his head and picked up his reading glasses and crossword puzzle. "Not if you sound like a chipmunk."

Affronted, Tony huffed and picked up the TV remote. "I think I sound more like Harvey Fierstein." Gibbs shot him a glance that clearly indicated he had no idea who Tony was talking about; he'd explain it to him another time. "I can order _Arlington Road_ for us to watch. So long as it isn't in Odorama with toxic grass cuttings I should be safe."

"No movies about predatory women either. Refusing that invitation to join Mrs. Bikini in her hot tub was a good move, DiNozzo."

"She lost interest as soon as I said I was married," Tony admitted with a sly smile.

Gibbs held back a smile that threatened to break through. "And you'd best remember that. Now stop talking."

Tony flipped through the channels and then stopped at a film he recognized. "Hey, look what's on! _Mute Witness_! It's about a makeup artist working on a slasher film in Moscow." Tony smiled even though his voice was rough and the occasional word rose in pitch to a squeak. "She witnesses a murder. The actress doesn't speak English but as the character is mute it's moot. Alec Guinness plays The Reaper. Seriously creepy." Tony sipped some tea then said, his voice fading to a mere whisper, "It'll bring back memories of your time in Russia, boss."

"Not interested in old times, DiNozzo."

"There's lots of Russian dialog with no subtitles. You can translate. I love to listen to you speaking Russian, Jethro," he cajoled.

Gibbs turned to glare at Tony over the top of his glasses. "Translate this," he said darkly.

Tony saw the threatening look Gibbs was giving him and said in his barely-there voice, "On the other hand, maybe not such a bright idea. A car bomb goes off in the film." He shuddered, not entirely an act.

"I'd have thought one explosion today would be enough for you, Tony. You should sleep." If Tony had been standing upright when the bomb went off he might have been sleeping on a slab in the morgue tonight. Gibbs kept that thought to himself. He knew he'd dream about it later on though.

"Yeah, well, Ziva's tackle kind of reminded me of the way Pitt took me down back in '93." Tony coughed and ground out, "At least she didn't break anything. Or I don't think she did." He put a hand to his ribs and winced dramatically.

"She was lying on top of you for a bit longer than was necessary, don't ya think?"

Tony's eyebrows rose and a delighted grin emerged. "Oh-ho, someone's a little green, are they?"

Gibbs feigned disinterest. "You think I'm envious? Nope. I wouldn't want Ziva on top of me, thanks all the same."

"Envy? I thought green was for jealousy." Tony's voice was nearly nonexistent but he kept on talking. "Have you ever wondered where these color choices representing emotions came from? I mean why is yellow all about cowardice? It seems like a happy color, all beaches, summer and sunshine."

Gibbs sighed and put his crossword puzzle aside. He stared straight at Tony and waited for him to stop talking.

"I can understand red though. The color of anger, passion, sex, flaring emotions. Hot red lips…What? Oh. Time to shut up, boss?"

"Ya think?"

Tony shrugged and croaked, "Can't help myself."

With an understanding nod, Gibbs sighed and said, "Yeah, I get that. Well, looks like you need some help from me." He leaned forward to give Tony a kiss, putting a lot of tongue into it. He drew back to ask, "Think some more of that'll keep you quiet?"

"Mmm," Tony replied with a smile. He put the mug of tea aside and gathered Gibbs in his arms. After a long kiss he nuzzled the underside of the older man's jaw and murmured, "So does green represent envy or jealousy? Because…"

Gibbs stiffened and moved out of the embrace.

Tony whispered, "What now?"

"Be back in a minute." Gibbs ordered, "Drink up that tea while I'm gone."

When Gibbs returned from the other room he held something behind his back. Tony, back to watching the film, asked, "You want me to turn off the TV?"

Gibbs grunted so Tony shut off the TV and paid attention to his lover, who was kneeling on the bed, facing him, and apparently waiting for his undivided attention. He looked at Jethro expectantly.

Gibbs asked, "Tony, can you breathe through your nose?"

The question itself wasn't odd considering the circumstances and his congestion earlier in the day, but it was the way Gibbs was asking it, as if he was leading up to something, that was a bit off. "Yeah, fine," Tony said suspiciously. He inhaled deeply to prove he could breathe through his nostrils with ease.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Look, Jethro, I know my voice is sort of compromised but it doesn't hurt. Okay, it hurt when Ducky was gripping my throat with the ME version of the Vulcan death grip, and he's very strong, did you know that, but…"

Gibbs pulled out whatever he'd been hiding behind his back and, faster than Tony could imagine was possible, something firm and rubbery was shoved in his mouth. Gibbs rose on his knees, ignoring Tony's muffled protests and flailing arms, and fastened the straps of a harness around his lover's head.

Gibbs sat back on his heels with a satisfied look on his face. "There, that should do the trick."

Tony's eyes widened when he realized he'd been effectively gagged and muzzled. He tried to speak through the rubber gag but it was filling his mouth and pressing down on his tongue so he couldn't do more than make unintelligible sounds. "Mfffro! Ah doh nee iss. Ill ee quieh." Frustrated, Tony reached behind his head to undo the straps but Gibbs grabbed his hands and forced them down to his sides.

He pushed Tony flat on the bed with one of his Marine-style moves and held him in place with the weight of his body. "You are obviously incapable of keeping quiet, Tony, so certain measures need to be implemented. Now, can you breathe okay? Do not speak. Just nod."

Staring and wondering what the hell had got into Jethro, who never played with sex toys, like _never_, Tony nodded. There must have been a hole in the gag because he discovered he was able to breathe through his mouth, which was good. Otherwise it might have been a little bit scary. Not sexy scary like an aggressive Jethro was, more like the can't-breathe scary that brought back unpleasant memories.

The bondage harness held his mouth closed and ensured there was no way to spit it out. That didn't mean that Tony didn't give it a damned good try, wriggling as he tried to dislodge it. Damn, why had Abby given him this gag in the first place? Well, he knew why - her heart was in the right place. He'd looked at it but never used it, nor even tried it out.

Gibbs wasn't into accessories but he seemed to enjoy the sight and feel of Tony struggling beneath him. "This is not a joke, Tony." Gibbs kept the pressure on Tony's arms to show who was boss. "You almost got killed out there today," he growled, "and if you can't speak when you go into work tomorrow Ducky is going to sideline you. Do you understand?"

It finally sunk into Tony's brain that this was one time he couldn't win - or talk - his way out of a situation. He sighed, exhaling through the rubber tube, and gave in with a submissive nod.

Once Jethro saw him capitulate he stroked Tony's hair and smiled. "Later on you can explain me what you were doing with this gag in your bag of toys."

Well, it wasn't like he'd hidden his toys; he hung it in plain sight above his shoe rack in the spare bedroom closet. Belatedly Tony remembered that Jethro had said something about repairing the hinges on the closet doors. He must have been curious. Looked inside. Shit, did that mean Jethro was finally willing to bend a little? Images of leather straps and vibrating silicone butt plugs danced in Tony's mind. There was a slap to the top of his head and a warning look from Gibbs.

"I can see you thinking, DiNozzo," Gibbs said with a low growl that emanated from the base of his throat.

That throaty tone certainly turned him on. Tony changed his tactics. He deliberately relaxed with a sigh under Jethro's firm hold and made what he hoped was a lost puppy dog plea with wide eyes. Tony let out a little whine. It came out muffled, which minimized the effect he was after.

"Forget it, Tony. You had your chance." Gibbs rolled off Tony and pressed the remote control into his hand. "Here, sit up and watch TV, and if you can keep quiet for an hour - and I mean no grunts, no whines, no squeaks - I'll remove the gag."

Gibbs went back to his crossword so Tony sat back against his pillows with a huff and turned on the TV once again, settling down to watch _Mute Witness_.

Gibbs wasn't entirely at fault here. Tony had been ordered not to speak for the sake of his vocal chords, but sometimes it was so hard to keep quiet when all those words were just dying to get out. He was like a kid who didn't know when to shut the hell up.

On the plus side, the rubber gag Jethro had forced into his mouth was making Tony really horny. The feeling of the rubber pressing down on his tongue, of having his ability to make a choice revoked, of knowing that Jethro was in control - all these worked together to give Tony a hard-on that was making him squirm. . .albeit silently.

He kept his eyes on the movie, which turned out to be pretty good, and began to stroke his cock to the tempo of the pulsating music. Suddenly a hand clamped down on his fingers, startling Tony into emitting a muted squeak.

Jethro fastened his eyes on Tony much as a hawk might upon its prey. "You do not touch yourself, Tony. You will wait until the gag is off and then I'll take care of you." He lifted Tony's hand from his groin and kissed his knuckles. "Do you understand? We're playing by my rules now."

Tony nodded, he hoped not too vigorously. He could tolerate an hour of being gagged, especially since he was looking forward to whatever Jethro was planning to do to him once the device was removed.

His cock had softened somewhat during the previous hour, but as soon as Jethro turned off the TV and leaned over to remove the gag, Tony hardened once again. He watched Jethro closely, waiting for some kind of cue as the older man leaned over to gently clean a bit of drool off his chin with a corner of the sheet. Tony stretched his jaw muscles and ran his tongue around his mouth. There was some residue of a rubbery taste but it served to remind him of the erotic feel of the gag.

"You okay?" Gibbs peered at Tony, assessing him.

Tony didn't even think about speaking. He'd learned his lesson so he nodded.

"I'll be back in a minute. I'm going to heat up that tea. Stay put." When he returned, Gibbs handed his lover the hot drink. He waited for Tony to drink his fill before taking the mug from him and placing it safely on the bedside table.

Gibbs loved it that Tony was eagerly watching his every move, waiting for him to tell him what he should do next. "Get undressed and make yourself comfortable." He noted that Tony winced a little when he complied. "Your shoulders bothering you?"

Tony's hand reached up to massage his shoulder but he shrugged to convey it was nothing. He remembered, years ago when a rigged car had exploded behind him as he'd run for his life, how every muscle in his body had ached so badly in the aftermath he had barely been able to walk. That was back in the good old days, before he and Gibbs finally figured it out, over five years ago. So much had happened since, but he loved where the road had taken them. These muscle pains would go away by the next day and he wasn't about to let anything interfere with their lovemaking. Any discomfort he'd be feeling tomorrow would not be in his shoulders, he was sure. Tony shivered in anticipation but he didn't make a single sound.

Gibbs noticed Tony's uncharacteristic silence. Such acquiescence after only one hour with a rubber gag in his mouth, he mused. "Maybe I should take this gag with us to work, as incentive," he said. If Tony intended to reply, he never had a chance.

Gibbs straddled Tony and proceeded to kiss him insistently, delving into his mouth with his tongue until he drew out a whimpering moan. When they broke apart, breathing heavily, Gibbs hovered. He gently massaged Tony's shoulders, running his hands along the muscles of his neck with just enough pressure to extract a groan.

"Feels good," Tony said, his eyelids drooping, lips parting in a relaxed smile. "Mmm." Tony opened up his eyes fully and when he focused on Gibbs his expression changed to concern and then to understanding. "I love you, Jethro," he said, with a hint of sadness. "I know I can't tell you not to worry, but…"

"I don't want to lose you, Tony. Not like that. Not any way-."

His words were halted by Tony rising up to kiss him longingly, his hands caressing Jethro's back muscles with long, soothing strokes. "Shhh, it's all right," he whispered. He still sounded like he was speaking with sandpapered vocal chords but at least his throat didn't hurt.

Jethro buried his head in the crook of Tony's neck. He wrapped his arms around Tony, taking in his bulk, the hard planes and soft skin and scent that all added up to the man he loved so much it hurt sometimes. "It's not all right. One wrong move and…"

"Seems I've been making the right moves for some time now." Tony ran his hand through Jethro's hair to settle on the back of his neck, pulling him back for another kiss. "This is so right."

"Shhh…no talking," Gibbs ordered. "Unless you want me to gag you again."

Tony saw Jethro was serious, but he wiggled his eyebrows and was rewarded with a crooked smile.

Jethro moved his hips against those of his lover until he squirmed and rose to meet him with a moan. "Maybe we need to look deeper into your bag of toys sometime, Tony."

"Promises, promises," Tony whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: The Bodyguard 7 - Out of Chaos by rose_malmaison  
Rating: FRAO  
Genre: Pre-slash; Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Spoilers: none  
Summary: When Tony was in college he met Gibbs, who became his bodyguard for life. Gibbs visits Tony in his new digs at the frat house.

**The Bodyguard 7 - Out of Chaos**  
Columbus, Ohio, Spring 1993

_Chaos is order to which you do not have the key. ~ Robert Derr_

The four flights of stairs in the OSU dorm were a bitch to negotiate with his leg in a cast but Tony climbed up and down them several times a day. His broken leg was all the Wolverine linebacker's fault. Okay, Tony accepted some of the blame for the risky move he took on the field, the one that was going to cost him a chance at a pro career. Now nobody wanted him, he thought morosely. It had helped - a lot - that Gibbs had stayed by his side for two whole days when he was first in the hospital. But eventually Gibbs had to leave and Tony had to return to class.

Tony refused to admit defeat when faced with a few flights of stairs. He struggled with his temporary handicap for several days after he was released from the hospital. There were plenty of cute girls who didn't mind carrying his backpack or bringing him some food but he still had to get to class. He was doing fine until an advisor caught him literally falling down the last few steps of Nathaniel Hall, crutches flying, when hurrying to his biology class.

The college was concerned about liability and immediately sought alternate, ground-floor housing for Tony. Nothing was available in any of the dorms but, as fate would have it, one of Tony's AXΔ brothers had just left on an overseas exchange program. That meant there was now a room in the frat house on the edge of campus and Tony was able to move right in. He figured that someone must have pulled some strings because there was a waiting list a mile long.

Once Tony moved in with his Alpha Chi Delta frat brothers a whole new world opened up before him. Parties, booze, games, pranks, freedom, fun, and girls in and out at all hours, even though there were house rules that said no visitors after 10 PM on weeknights. Apparently rules were not a priority.

Best of all there were his brothers, all eleven of them in one huge old Victorian house christened 'Chaos Hall'. Never mind that there was faulty plumbing and a leaky roof, and the kitchen smelled like mice had died in the walls. There wasn't much privacy, and it was noisy and chaotic and not easy to concentrate on studies, but there was always someone to talk to 24 hours a day for support and simple camaraderie. These were not just roommates or fellow students…they were brothers. It was just like having his own family - a big, rowdy, all-male family. To Tony, it was heaven.

"Hey DiNozzo, Salt-and-Pepper is out front, asking for you!"

Unlike the first time Leroy Jethro Gibbs had come to campus, Tony was expecting him. He smiled at the nickname his frat brother, Magruder, gave Gibbs, but when Tony saw the scowl on the NCIS special agent's face he realized that Gibbs had overheard the reference to his graying hair and didn't like it.

"You gonna let me in, DiNozzo, or do I have to join the brotherhood?"

Tony opened the front door wide in invitation. "There's a secret handshake but if I teach it to you I'll have to kill you." He couldn't help grinning at the older man. Gibbs' expression remained dark but when he clapped Tony on his shoulder by way of greeting and Tony hugged him in a hard, spontaneous gesture, a broad smile emerged on Gibbs' face. "C'mon in, see my digs," Tony said, heading off to his room with Gibbs on his heels. Gibbs noticed Tony had a slight limp though he looked healthy otherwise.

Gibbs removed his jacket and looked around. It was a small room, surprisingly neat and clean, despite being crammed with textbooks and papers piled on a small desk. A bicycle and weights took up one corner, and a too-large TV occupied precious shelf space. The walls were covered with posters of sports figures and bikini-clad women, and a bulletin board was overloaded with pinned-up photos, scribbled notes, postcards and an OSU pennant.

Gibbs reached out and opened a get-well card pinned to the board, being nosy, though he thought of it as being a trained investigator. It said, in a neat handwriting, 'Next time I'm down you can kick me, DiNozzo. Go Wolverines!'

"That's from Brad Pitt," Tony explained. "Here, sit," he said, sweeping a jacket and a couple of textbooks off the only chair in the room. Tony threw himself on his bed that was jammed up against the wall, and leaned back on one elbow, his long legs dangling off the side.

"Pitt? The safety who broke your leg?" Gibbs sat in the chair and found his knees almost touched the bed. He moved the chair slightly so he wouldn't crowd Tony.

"Yeah, the Wolverine. Nice of him to send the card." Tony smiled a little, apparently not one to hold a grudge.

"How is it?"

"My leg?" Tony looked away and shrugged. "Fine. Almost back to normal."

"You exercising?" Gibbs hoped it didn't come across that he was interrogating the young man, but something pushed him to voice his concerns. It wasn't as if Tony couldn't take care of himself. He'd been pretty much on his own since he was a kid. Tony's father paid some of the bills, Gibbs had found out through a discreet investigation, but he rarely saw his own son. The fact that Mr. DiNozzo hadn't even turned up when his only son was hospitalized with a leg broken so badly he needed an operation told the whole tale. It was obvious Tony was resilient yet Gibbs needed to make sure that the kid knew someone was concerned.

Tony didn't seem to mind the questions too much. He replied nonchalantly, "Yeah, I'm working on strengthening it. Swimming, biking around campus mostly. Some weights. I missed the rest of the football season though." Tony's face lost its animation when he talked about his curtailed career but when he changed the subject he lit up again. "Hey, I went to Panama City for spring break! You ever been there, Jethro?"

Gibbs chuckled. "Not for spring break, Tony. Been to the NCIS office in Pensacola."

"Don't you get any time off? I mean to lie back on a beach, have some fun, take in the babes." Tony gently prodded Gibbs' leg with his foot and wiggled his eyebrows. "Boy, did we ever have a great time. Hot sun, hot bands and even hotter girls!"

When he was Tony's age he was already in the Marines and saving his pennies so he could get married. "No time for vacations," Gibbs said, shaking his head. Lately he'd been busy working cases, taking courses at FLETC, and learning everything he could from Special Agent Franks during their long hours investigating crimes. The one weekend he thought he'd be able to get away he'd been sent undercover. That was one of the reasons he'd come to see Tony.

Gibbs let his eyes roam over Tony's jeans-and-sweater-clad body, up to his handsome face, with those lips parted in a rare, open smile, and those hazel-green eyes crinkling at the corners as he told his story. Gibbs had spent a lot of time thinking about Tony over the past year. Thinking things a man had no right to think about, he admonished himself, certainly not about a kid who looked up to him as a father figure. No, for certain he was nothing like Tony's absent father. He was more along the lines of a big brother to Tony, or in the role of an older, more experienced friend. Yeah, he could live with that. Gibbs realized that Tony had been talking about his spring break adventures and the girls he'd met, and he'd missed most of it.

Tony sat up and slapped at Jethro's knee. "You're not gonna stay single too long, are you?" The young man's tone was light but there was concern in his eyes.

"It's hard to meet anyone because I spend all of my spare time visiting this fresh kid I know, who's at Ohio State," Gibbs said with a straight face. When Tony's face fell Gibbs knew he'd said the wrong thing. "Hey," he said, slapping at Tony's leg in response. "I like to visit, to see how you're doing." Apparently his words were taken as the apology he intended because Tony nodded.

"Besides," Gibbs added, "I travel enough for work. And, uh, I am sort of seeing someone." He hadn't told anyone yet that he was getting serious about a woman, and wasn't sure why he was telling Tony. It felt awkward somehow. Gibbs looked at his hands and admitted, "I only met her recently but we've gone out a few times."

Tony looked at him for a long minute then said, "You like her." The implication was that he thought that Gibbs liked her a lot.

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah." He could feel the color rising up his neck and hated that Tony could see how disconcerted he was. Now he wished he'd just kept his mouth shut about anything personal. Gibbs inhaled deeply and said, "Look, one of the reasons I wanted to see you was to give you this." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Tony, who hesitated and then took it warily. "I'm going out of the country soon, Tony, and you won't be able to reach me, so I wrote down some phone numbers."

Tony unfolded the paper and looked at the names and numbers Gibbs had written out for him. His face was still, almost blank with that closed-off look he got.

Tony showed happiness easily, whether it was true or manufactured, but as soon as he was overwhelmed or upset he shut himself off. Gibbs knew it was Tony's way of handling strong emotions but it wasn't easy to see the false front the kid put on. It was likely that most people would see only what Tony wanted them to see and never look any deeper. It was obvious that Tony had practice switching on and off like that, and it bothered Gibbs. He wondered at what age it had begun, and what had initially triggered the coping mechanism.

With his eyes lowered as if he was studying the list of contact numbers, Tony said carefully, "You know, I'm not sure I'm going to have any free time to see you again. I'm really busy now, with studying and sports, and did I tell you I'm doing some play-by-play for WOSU? I'm up to my ears with my extra courses because my father wants me to major in business or something useful and I don't want to give up Phys. Ed. so I'm going for a double major." He rolled his eyes dramatically and continued, quickly, before Gibbs could get a word in edgewise. "Yeah, I know, stupid to take on such a big course load but I'm making up for lost time from when I was laid up. I've applied for this summer job at the veteran's rehab center in Columbus, and the coach gave me a really good recommendation and the job will look good on my résumé..." His voice petered out and, unwilling to look at Gibb's face. He stared instead at the ex-Marine's hands, which were gripping the arms of his chair. Neither man said anything for a moment then Tony said in a small voice, "I think maybe it'd be better if you don't come here any more, Gibbs."

Gibbs edged forward, his knees touching Tony's, puzzled at the about-face. The young man was hunched over, fingering the paper, his eyes glazed over like he was a million miles away. Gibbs reached out to lay a hand on top of Tony's, wanting almost desperately to make some kind of connection, to draw him back. Tony withdrew slightly but Gibbs, unwilling to retreat, let his hand remain in contact with Tony's, not pressuring him in any way, but assuring him that he wasn't going anywhere.

He could see Tony's long eyelashes sweeping his cheeks, the faint shadow of youthful stubble on his upper lip, his tongue as it emerged to lick his lips in preparation for something he was about to say. Gibbs asked gently, "Is that what you really want, Tony? For me to stop visiting you?"

Tony pulled his hand out of Gibbs' loose hold, and raised his eyes to look straight at the older man. There was a flicker of connection and then Tony shut it away. The switch had been thrown, once again.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me, Gibbs, but I'm fine," he said in a cool tone.

It took Gibbs a few seconds to realize that he was being summarily dismissed. He stared into the young mans eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside his head, but Tony had a talent for hiding. All Gibbs could see was the kind of polite façade you might find on the face of a businessman who smiled while he shook your hand but would have a hard time recalling your name next time you met.

Angry with Tony for being so misguided, for pushing him away, for denying him the chance to help, Gibbs glared. "I'm not walking away, Tony. That's not gonna happen."

Many men, some of them seasoned soldiers, had faltered when face with Gibbs' glare, but Tony didn't give an inch. Gibbs had to give the kid credit for holding his gaze so steadily. Tony dropped the slip of paper in Gibbs' lap. "I don't need this. I don't want it." he said tightly, "I don't need you, Gibbs."

Gibbs was irritated and even a bit hurt at Tony for treating him like he was a stranger, and he made the mistake of letting it show. He reached out to grip Tony's shoulder, hoping that physical contact would bring Tony to his senses, would bring him back to him. "You don't know what you need," he said angrily.

The instant Gibbs touched him, Tony raised one arm defensively and jerked back in alarm. "Don't!" With eyes wide, Tony quickly slid back on the bed until his back hit the wall with a thump.

Shocked at the boy's reaction, Gibbs' anger turned to concern. He raised his hands and assured him, "I'm not going to hurt you, Tony. It's all right." His voice exuded a calm that he did not feel. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to…" Damn it, what did he want? He'd been asking himself that question for a long time now and the only conclusion he'd come to, or the only one he would admit to, was that he wanted Tony to know that he cared for him. About him. Gibbs shook his head, knowing this shouldn't be about what he was feeling. This was about ensuring that Tony felt secure and wanted.

It took nearly a minute but Tony lowered his arm, though he didn't move from his position, which was just about as far away from Gibbs as he could be in the small bedroom.

Gibbs waited patiently. He could leave the room and give Tony time to get over whatever had spooked him, but Gibbs was damned if he was going to walk away leaving this…this ugly thing standing between them. It was unfathomable, after the time they'd spent together, that Tony would think he was capable of hurting him yet his actions were an accusation, broad and painful. It hurt so much that Gibbs dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes. "Jesus, Tony," he whispered. "How could you think that I'd ever lay a hand on you?"

It was a couple of minutes later that Gibbs felt a hand on his shoulder, a very tentative hand. He opened his eyes but didn't move. With his gaze lowered he could see Tony had moved to the edge of the bed once again.

Then their knees met and Tony said cautiously, "I didn't mean it. I didn't really think you'd…"

Slowly so he wouldn't cause alarm, Gibbs raised his head and looked up to meet Tony's eyes. For once the younger man's emotions were exposed, raw and truthful in a deeply apologetic plea.

"I'm sorry, Jethro," Tony said.

Gibbs wanted to demand what the hell had Tony been thinking, but instead he used all of his skills to keep his voice calm and non-threatening. "I'm sorry for startling you." He waited and saw Tony relax, so he continued, as cautious as if he was confronting a skittish animal. "I wasn't really angry with you, Tony, and even if I had been, you know…you _have_ to know I'd never _ever_ strike you. You do know that, right?"

Tony's eyes dropped and then looked up to meet Gibbs' eyes once again. He nodded. "I thought I'd…got over doing that." He hung his head. "Hasn't happened for a long time."

"It was my fault for losing my temper," Jethro admitted. "I…" He had to think back to what had triggered this whole thing. "I gave you those phone numbers because… Look, I want to see you again, Tony. They're back-ups. That's all. I want to make sure you have someone to turn to if I can't be around. That number is for Tom Morrow, my boss. He's a nice man and he'll always know where I am. He'll send me a message. Understand? The other number is for a good friend of mine: Dr. Mallard. He's the best man I know and he'll always be there to help you, if you need anything, even if it's just someone to talk to. I want you to promise me you'll call them if you need something. No matter what it is." He waited to make sure that his words had sunk in and when Tony nodded, Jethro smiled and said, "Good boy."

Tony hung his head and his hair flopped over his forehead, but Gibbs could see the flush that appeared on his cheeks. After a minute Tony asked solemnly, "Where're you going? For how long?"

Reluctantly Gibbs said, "It's need-to-know. Federal business. I can't tell anyone, even I'd like to. Maybe four months." Tony didn't look up so Jethro added, "I always want to stay in touch with you, Tony." He wanted to know who the bastard was who had hurt Tony so badly that he'd flinch like that when a man showed anger. Jethro had to work to control his temper, once again, knowing it wouldn't do for Tony to see the deep fury that flared in his heart. It had to be his father, DiNozzo Sr., who'd done this to Tony. It was a good thing that the kid did not see Gibbs' expression at that moment or he would have seen the desire to kill that darkened Gibbs' eyes. That would have truly scared the shit out of him.

With a nod, Tony shifted on the bed and by the time he looked up Gibbs had managed to put on what he hoped was a neutral expression. He almost laughed at himself, being annoyed earlier that Tony was putting on a mask and here he was, doing the same thing.

"Jethro?"

"Yeah?"

"Why?"

Gibbs raised his eyebrows in question.

Tony cleared his throat and asked, "Why'd you keep coming back here, to see me? Why'd you give me this?" He retrieved the list of contacts from Gibbs.

"You do what you have to for family." Gibbs shifted uneasily in the chair. "And because you're mine." Tony was part of his family now, and more than that.

Tony's face brightened with the beginning of a real smile but then he sobered. "Will you be careful?"

Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah. Don't worry, kid. I'm good at what I do. Trained by the best."

"My bodyguard," Tony joked.

"Yeah, always on your six, son. Look, when I get back how about you come and visit me? At the end of the summer? It'll give us both something to look forward to."

Tony smiled, one of his brilliant and all-encompassing smiles that lit up Gibbs' life. He knew he'd carry the memory of it with him halfway around the world, just as he knew he'd done the right thing by coming here to tell Tony about his plans, face-to-face. Gibbs stuck out his hand and Tony shook it but a second later the boy was in his arms, hugging him tight and whispering in his ear, "I'll be there."


	8. Chapter 8

Title: The Bodyguard 8 - Understanding by rose_malmaison  
Rating: FRAO, adult situations, m/m, slash, language  
Genre: Slash; Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for further exploration.  
Spoilers: Includes season 8 to 8x05 Dead Air  
Summary: When Tony was in college he met Gibbs, who became his bodyguard for life. Gibbs sees chaos in Abby's actions and later confides in Tony why it takes him back to a childhood event.

**The Bodyguard 8 - Understanding**  
Arlington, Virginia, 2010

_What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the words I have read in my life._

_~ Walt Whitman_

Tony hugged Gibbs from behind, cramping his style as he prepared their dinner. Gibbs didn't make any attempt to dislodge the big man whose arms were wrapped around his waist, and when he leaned to his left to grab a coupe of peppers off the kitchen counter, Tony moved with him. In synch, as always.

Tony rested his chin on Jethro's shoulder and said softly, "She had eleventeen Caf-pow!s, you know. That's probably twice as much caffeine as your required daily intake of java, Boss."

Jethro stilled for a moment, then finished cutting up the peppers as if he hadn't heard what Tony had said. With a nudge and a step he moved out of Tony's grip and over to the frying pan on the stovetop. Once he had the meal cooking he turned to meet Tony's gaze, knowing he was expected to say something. He hadn't spoken since they got home, unless you counted a few grunts. They didn't usually bring cases home, but this one had affected all of the team and was proving to be hard to shake. Gibbs let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and finally said, "Abby lost her perspective." What he didn't have to say was 'like the victim lost hers' because Tony was well aware of how lost the late Lieutenant Clea Thorson had been.

Tony kept eye contact for a long moment, apparently seeking something. He must have been satisfied because he turned away and opened the fridge. "Beer or wine?" He held up a bottle of white wine, imitating a waiter by extending it so Jethro could view the label. "It is a tart, fruity wine. One might say it is a tad frisky." Tony wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Unable to prevent a smile, Jethro lowered his head to hide his expression. It didn't work because a second later Tony was sidling up to him, the length of his body warm and welcome, his lips pressed to his forehead.

"I knew there was a smile hiding in there somewhere. C'mon, she'll be fine, Jethro," Tony assured him. "Abby is nothing like Thorson."

Jethro sighed and looked away, unwilling to let Tony see how upset he'd been, and still was, over the way Abby had become overly involved with the dead Lieutenant. But Tony wasn't having any of it. He remained close, holding onto Jethro's arm, anchoring him until he felt compelled to look up. There was compassion in Tony's eyes, as well as love, but it had become obvious that there was more to Jethro's reaction about the case than he was letting on.

Jethro shifted his weight uneasily. "Abby said I didn't understand. When I raised my voice to her."

"You had to snap her out of it, Jethro. Better than slapping her across the face," Tony said lightly. He absently stroked the back of his own head, on the spot he most often received reprimands from his boss.

Jethro shook his head. There was more to it than trying to shake some sense into Abby, but he didn't really want to get into it. He turned away from Tony and stood silently at the stove, stirring the sizzling chunks of beef and vegetables. Tony poured them each a glass of wine and set tumblers of water on the table, and seated himself. He knew enough not to push but Jethro could see Tony was worried. Once their dinner was ready Jethro served up, and throughout their meal their conversation was limited to small talk. It was only after they'd eaten most of their dinner that Jethro felt like opening up about what had been left unsaid.

"When I was a kid I used to visit my Aunt Netty sometimes. Dad sent me over to help out in the yard. I mowed the lawn, that kind of thing." Jethro stopped long enough to finish up his glass of wine. Without being asked, Tony poured him another glassful. It gave Jethro enough time to think about his wording. He didn't like to hold back where Tony was concerned, but it would be less painful if he kept it short.

"One day when I went over there…it was on the other side of town so I biked over…I found her sitting on the floor of the kitchen opening every bottle and can of food from her pantry and emptying their contents all over the floor. Rice and peaches and…It was a mess. Looked like a tornado had been through there." After a pause he said, "Aunt Netty was the sweetest, nicest, _sanest_ aunt a kid could ever have. This wasn't her. It wasn't her!" Jethro reached for his glass of water and stared sightlessly at it. All he could see was his aunt seated on the worn linoleum kitchen floor that she washed clean every Saturday morning without fail, and took such pride in, now covered with the spilled contents of her pantry. There were peas, sliced peaches in syrup, ketchup, beans, and flour all over herself and the floor - a broad palette of textures and colors highlighted with yellow corn and bright pink beet juice.

Slowly Jethro continued. "She was talking to people who weren't there, acting crazy, her hair wild and…screaming at me that I didn't understand." He couldn't go on, overwhelmed with the feelings he'd had as a kid. "I was scared shitless, let me tell you, but I tried to get her up, to talk to her." His hand went to his cheek. "She hit me. I'd never been hit in the face before, not even by my own parents." Then Tony's hand was on top of his, sympathetic and warm. Jethro swallowed and said, "I ran like hell and rode my bike as fast as I could to get Dad. I was bawling by the time I got home, but Dad seemed to know what I was getting at."

Jethro finally met his lover's eyes. "I never saw her again," he said with a kid's sense of bewilderment bleeding into his adult voice. "Eventually Mom told me Aunt Netty was being taken care of in a sanatorium." He dropped his gaze to the table where Tony's fingers were interlaced with his. "She died couple of months later. I wasn't supposed to hear…they said she killed herself. I kept thinking I should've stayed with her that day, that I could've got through to her. I blamed myself for not trying harder to bring her back from whatever hell she'd sunk into."

"Jethro, you were just a kid," Tony protested. "You couldn't do-."

"No, it's okay, Tony. It's okay now. I know I couldn't have made any difference. Apparently she'd been going downhill for some time and I'd just never been aware of it. The kid's the last one to know." He grunted and stood, taking the dinner dishes over to the sink, needing to get up and moving, to shake off the past.

Tony said in a firm voice, close behind him, "Abby is not your aunt."

"I know, I know," Jethro said, almost angrily, hands gripping the edge of the sink, knuckles white. He knew, he did, but the look in Abby's eyes when she'd accused him of raising his voice, of not understanding her. It brought it all back. "It's all right, I do understand," he whispered.

Tony was there once again, turning Jethro around and hugging him tight, his silky hair brushing against Jethro's cheek. "Abby knows that, Jethro. You talked to her before you left, didn't you?" Jethro nodded a response. "C'mon," Tony said. "Let's go upstairs."

Jethro glanced at the wall clock. "It's only nine. Don't you want to…"

"I have better things to do than watch a movie." He quickly silenced any objections with a deep kiss, his hands caressing Jethro's back. "Mmmm," Tony murmured with a sigh. "Let me take care of you."

Jethro kissed Tony tenderly and ran his hands down to fondle his muscular ass, pinching it for added measure.

When their mouths parted Tony grinned. "Oooh, I do believe that frisky wine has taken effect."

Smiling in response, Jethro nodded. "Upstairs. Now."

Tony was always able to soothe him, with a hand on his shoulder or cheek, with a stroke across his skin, gentle yet firm. Tony's lips brushed across Jethro's throat, the rasp of his tongue on the underside of his jaw causing the older man to raise his chin and offer himself to his lover. Jethro allowed himself to become lost in the sensations, lost in Tony, in the magic of his talented lips and teeth and hands, of his hard and leaking cock, that possessed and caressed and touched and entered him - and gave him what he so desperately craved.

Their bodies close together, tangled limbs, quick breaths and moans and shouts of "hurry, do it harder just _harder_," with pleasure and need overwhelming any semblance of ordered thought. Panting and thrusting back against the hot shaft that took him hard from behind, the merging of their sweaty bodies, moving together until he couldn't tell where he ended and he . . ._he_ began. Words that were no more than sounds, guttural and full of fury, urging each other on, demanding and entreating, crying out their mutual need. The pounding in his ears so loud, his back arching and ass clenching and then hot seed spilling inside his body, and the release and surrender, the utter chaos of it all making sense. . . a final, profound sense.

Wrapping his arms around Tony's shoulders, Jethro drew him to his chest, stroking his damp hair as he whispered, "It's all right. It's all right now." He didn't know if he was comforting Tony or if those words were really for himself, but they helped them both get through the night.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: The Bodyguard 9 - Memories by rose_malmaison  
Rating: FRAO, Genre: Pre-slash, Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for further exploration.  
Spoilers: none  
Summary: When Tony was in college he met Gibbs, who became his bodyguard for life. Now he has finished with college, Tony goes to DC to spend a summer month with Gibbs.  
A/N: I appreciate your comments!

**The Bodyguard 9 - Memories**

Columbus, Ohio, August 1993

_Dreams are supposed to represent your subconscious wishes and conflicts. It's sort of a private movie you write, produce and direct. Only you can't hide your eyes in your dreams, even when they are scaring you to death._

_~ Thomas Magnum in 'Memories Are Forever' _

"Yeah, I'm getting a ride as far as Baltimore. Got a buddy who's going there to spend the summer with his parents. I dunno. Guess I'll hitch…no…yes…I'm not a kid you know, Gibbs." Tony scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the ratty carpet in the frat house's hallway and cradled the telephone with a shoulder. "Yes sir. I mean yes, Gibbs, I'll take the bus." He smiled into the mouthpiece. "Bet you say that to all your friends. See you soon."

The day before Tony arrived in DC, Gibbs told his wife that a college kid was coming to work with him on the boat for the rest of August. He wouldn't have said anything at all except that Tony was going to be staying at the house and there was no way she'd miss the presence of a houseguest. Gibbs didn't give away any more information than he absolutely had to.

That night, when his wife accused him of being a mute bastard and slammed the bedroom door in his face, Gibbs sat under the stars on his hand-built deck, with a beer in hand, and gave some thought as to why he'd been so tight-lipped about Tony and his visit. It wasn't as if he didn't think about Tony, because he did, quite a lot. Ducky was the only other person he'd shared Tony with, and that was because the ME was the closest thing Gibbs had to a friend. He trusted Ducky to take care of Tony in his absence, which is why he'd given Tony his phone number in the first place. After a rare bout of soul searching, after he'd progressed to drinking bourbon, Gibbs conceded that he was a possessive bastard, and more than a little fond of the kid. Not that Tony was a kid any more. Not that there was anything wrong with caring about him, either.

Tony had graduated from Ohio State a few months back with a proud Gibbs present as a stand-in family member. As part of Tony's new job at the VA hospital's health center he had created a program to bring organized sports to disabled veterans. From the intel that Gibbs had gathered in the course of phone conversations with Tony, as well as with his supervisors over the past few months, the kid was 'well-liked, motivated and sharp as a tack.' He was also a 'pain in the ass who needed a firm hand.' That last comment had come straight from the lips of a seasoned military nurse at the VA who took no crap from anyone, although she made it clear she thought the world of Tony. Gibbs wondered if she'd tried head-slapping him yet.

Columbus, Ohio, May, 1993

Gibbs was surprised to discover, when he attended Tony's commencement ceremony, that the young man had also earned a BS in Criminal Justice, in crime analysis. "I didn't want to say anything in case I flunked out," explained Tony, flushing when his achievement was revealed and Gibbs let it be known how proud he was of him. "I considered going into sports medicine but…" He shrugged.

"What does your father say about it?" Gibbs didn't bother to look around to see if DiNozzo Sr. was present to see his son receive his degree. Although neither Gibbs nor Tony was surprised at the no-show, Tony had struggled to hide his disappointment.

Tony tensed a bit, his normal reaction when his father was mentioned. He managed to paste a somewhat convincing smile on his face before asking, "Uh…what he doesn't know won't hurt me?"

DiNozzo Sr. had pushed, and threatened, his son to strive for something other than a Phys. Ed. degree from the start, but Tony had dug his heels in. Gibbs doubted that the old man would be any more pleased about Tony's interest in criminal justice than he was about his other major, nor would Senior give his son credit where it was due. Knowing what the answer would be, Gibbs asked anyway, "You planning on going home anytime soon?"

"Home?" Tony looked puzzled. "I don't…I guess I don't have anywhere to go. I'll stick around here." He shrugged. "The job at the VA is all lined up. Thanks for putting in a good word for me, Gibbs." He bit his lower lip and then studied the ground. "Last time I called my father we had a sort of 'Red River' moment." He caught Gibbs' quizzical look and prompted, "You know John Wayne and Montgomery Clift? 'Red River' was Howard Hawks' first western, in 1948. Cattle drive, conflict, father and adopted son fighting it out but come to terms with each other. In the book, dear old Dad bites the dust but the film's ending is less of a downer. Reconciliation and manly looks instead of hugs." He punched Gibbs lightly in the shoulder and laughed. "I wonder if it'll be reconciliation or a fight to the death between Dad and me. You want to guess which ending I'd like to see?"

"Life is not a movie, Tony," Gibbs said, harsher than he intended.

Tony's smile faded fast. He blinked then his smile reappeared. "There's this line in 'Red River' that says there are times a man should celebrate loudly: 'When he marries, when his children come, and when he finishes a job he had to be crazy to start.' You don't think those lines reflect real life, Boss?"

He'd looked at Tony for a long moment, wondering if the young man really believed that there were storybook endings and life imitated film. If so, he was in for some big disappointments. In the end Gibbs stuck with reality and said, "My offer's still open. Come to DC in August."

Tony met Gibbs' eyes to verify his sincerity. "You mean that, Gibbs? You really want me?"

"Isn't that what I said? I'm gonna work your ass off, DiNozzo." Despite the warning, Tony appeared to be so pleased that Gibbs' heart had literally hurt for the kid and he swore that he'd always be there for him.

Arlington, VA, August, 1993

Tony knocked on the front door of Gibbs' house mid-morning on the first of August. It was soon opened by a striking redheaded woman who looked him up and down in such a way that Tony felt like a specimen in a jar. Without cracking a smile she motioned him inside. Lined up in the foyer were several suitcases, tote bags and a huge straw hat. Long trip, thought Tony. /Beach resort. Expensive luggage, good taste./

"He's not here," she said in a flat tone as she picked up a couple of the smaller bags.

"I'm Tony DiNozzo, ma'am," he said politely, peering around with interest at the little he could see of Gibbs' home from the foyer. "Is Agent Gibbs at work?" It was a weekday so Tony didn't really expect to find Gibbs at home. Considering the withering glare Tony received from Gibbs' wife he couldn't blame the guy for working long hours.

"Your guess is as good as mine." From the way Mrs. Gibbs spoke, she must have said the same thing a hundred times before. "There are only two words in Leroy's vocabulary," she said cynically. "Work or boat." She didn't bother to introduce herself, just headed for the still-open door.

Tony flattened himself against the wall when Gibbs' wife pressed past and then he grabbed the remaining luggage and ran after her. She didn't take any time arranging her things in her open sports car, just tossed them on the back seat. Tony wanted to ask what the big hurry was but the woman, though beautiful and this side of thirty, had a brittle edge to her that reminded him of his father's second wife. He shrank inwardly and decided he wasn't going to ask her how to get hold of Gibbs. It was way too early in the day to be slapped down by a woman, even one so good looking.

She took the last of her bags and the big hat from Tony, pulled her car keys from her purse and got into the driver's seat. For the first time the woman stopped long enough to look Tony in the face. Whatever she was seeking wasn't to be found, apparently, from her slightly relieved expression. "Look…"

"Tony," he supplied.

"Look, Tony. You seem like a nice enough young man. Do yourself a favor and don't waste your time trying to be his friend. Leroy has a damned hard shell and you'll only find more of the same inside. Trying to crack that particular nut will only drain the life right out of you." Her eyes were like flints. "How long are you staying?"

"A month, Mrs. Gibbs."

"Hmm. If you last more than a week you'll earn yourself a medal. Just ask him to give you one of his; he has plenty to spare."

Tony was still trying to compare the Gibbs he knew with the man that this woman saw, when she started the car. He quickly asked, "Where can I find him?"

"He left you an envelope on the kitchen counter." She gave a humorless laugh. "More than he's ever done for me." She backed her car down the driveway and was gone before Tony could shake off the bad feeling that he'd dropped into the final moments of a marriage gone sour. He'd seen enough of them to know the signs.

There were boats of all shapes and sizes parked in the big lot, some of them hulking working vessels covered in tarps, some small motor boats. Most were in various stages of repair or refurbishment, with the flotsam and jetsam, engine parts, and boating equipment unique to a marina, piled around their landlocked bodies. The hull of the boat that Gibbs was working on loomed high above him, supported by stabilizing metal stands and blocks.

Tony shaded his eyes from the glaring sun and scoped out the large sailboat in dry dock. "Wow, she's…big…and…"

"Never thought I'd see the day, DiNozzo," Gibbs said with a shake of his head.

"See what day, Boss?"

"The day you were at a loss for words," Gibbs said with a straight face as he wiped his arm across his sweaty forehead. "Sandpaper's there," he said by way of greeting.

Tony pulled his sunglasses out of his back pocket, slipped them on and studied the wooden hull that had seen better days. "You treat all your employees to such a fine welcome?" He gamely picked up a sandpaper block and watched Gibbs to see how it was done. It appeared that Gibbs had been stripping off the old paint and planned to caulk, repair and repaint the part that would be submerged in the water. Not that Tony knew anything about boats from this perspective. He'd been on a yacht or two, but usually with a cute girl on his arm and a cold drink in his hand.

Gibbs almost said aloud that he wasn't employing Tony, but he was giving him room and board and an allowance in exchange for working with him on refinishing the old 50-footer. "Only the employees I like," Gibbs retorted. He wasn't surprised that the kid grinned and started right in on sanding the old finish off the boat.

Within a few minutes Tony had divested himself of his t-shirt and was talking up a storm. Gibbs tuned the gabble out and tried not to look too often, or too obviously, at the half-naked young man. Shit, Tony was tall and lean, with a basketball player's muscles. His skin was smooth as a girl's across his tanned back, and when he turned…his chest…those brown nipples…a smattering of chest hair…and more hair leading down his belly to disappear under the waistband of the faded jeans that hung low on his hips. Jesus, what had gotten into him? "With the grain, DiNozzo," Gibbs barked. He stopped to take a deep draught of water from the cooler he'd set nearby in the shade, when what he really wanted was something a whole hell of a lot stronger.

"How many hours a week do you put in here, Boss?" Tony slipped his sunglasses off his nose, stuck them on top of his head, and squinted at the length of the big boat. He rubbed his bare stomach when it rumbled with hunger. They'd been working all afternoon and he hadn't had anything to eat since that morning. "She's looking good." He was surprised how much work they'd done and how much he'd enjoyed laboring side by side with Gibbs.

"Maybe one whole day if I'm lucky. Some evenings after work. No lights on the dock so when the sun goes down…" If his boss, Special Agent Mike Franks, hadn't taken on another investigator, Chris Pacci, a couple of months ago, Gibbs wouldn't have had any time off at all. Even now he was lucky if he made it home before ten most nights. He looked at his watch. "Getting on for seven. Work tomorrow." He wondered if there was anything to eat in the house. Now he had a 22-year-old to feed he'd have to stock up.

"I met your wife as she was leaving. I think she packed the kitchen sink in her luggage." Gibbs stiffened so Tony looked away and checked his reflection in the truck's side mirror. He tweaked his hair and said reluctantly, "If it's not convenient for me to stay at your house, I can make other arrangements." Maybe he could sleep on the boat if things didn't work out.

If Tony had met his wife, he'd probably correctly assessed his marital situation right off the bat. "She won't be around," Gibbs said gruffly. Not until summer was over; her sister had a place on some island of Massachusetts, where men wore linen suits, women had lawn parties, and everyone set their watch for 4:30 cocktails. Who was he kidding? She wouldn't be back at all, that much was clear. Their marriage had taken a nosedive within a month of their vows and he'd taken the assignment overseas to get away. She'd expected something of him he could never give and for some idiot reason she presumed that marriage would change him. He wasn't the kind of man who opened up easily, if at all. He was more the 'what you see is what you get' kind of guy. It didn't take her long to realize that Gibbs was unable to be anything that she expected of him. Shannon was the only woman who had ever seen him for who he really was.

Right now he couldn't see much past his anger, which was directed at himself more than at his soon-to-be-ex. Gibbs found he wasn't so much upset that the marriage had disintegrated, but that he'd been blind enough to fall into the trap so easily in the first place. It wouldn't happen again, he swore.

Tony was waiting for more information and eyed Gibbs with more interest than sympathy. "More than you bargained for or less?"

He'd forgotten how astute the kid was. "She hates my line of work," Gibbs found himself saying. "Hates my long hours, hates the cases I'm working on. Hates me if I'm gone. Hates me even more if I'm at home for more than a couple of hours. Can't win for trying." He shrugged, picked up a new sheet of sandpaper and went back to work, leaning into the hull with each sweep of his arm. Gibbs could feel Tony's eyes following him, burning into the back of his head and that didn't help his patience any.

"Is this your boat, Gibbs? I mean are you planning on sailing her around the world once you're finished, like Nicole Kidman and Sam Neill in 'Dead Calm'?"

Gibbs raised his voice when he said sharply, "As soon as she's done she's going up for sale, that okay with you? Now are you gonna pitch in, DiNozzo, or is this too much manual labor for you? Maybe you've realized this isn't what you expected and want to bail out." Gibbs knew that he wasn't being fair but he was having a damned hard time shaking this damned dark mood ever since he'd returned from Bosnia a couple of months ago. He didn't care that he sounded pissed when he said, "Maybe you should go, too."

When Tony replied he seemed worried. "You can always count on me to love you, Gibbs."

Gibbs froze, his hand flat on the hull of the boat. Shit, what had Tony read between the lines? How was it that a kid could see right through him when his own wife couldn't? Tony walked up behind him with careful steps, until he was so close that all Gibbs had to do was straighten and his back would make contact with Tony's bare chest.

"I'm not going anywhere, Gibbs. I've got your six," Tony assured him in a low tone, barely above a whisper.

Gibbs found he was breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest so loud he was afraid Tony would hear it. Was this from Tony being so close, from his words of blind support? It didn't matter how or why it happened, Gibbs only knew he couldn't let it go any further, no matter how much he wanted it, no matter what Tony's intent was. /You cannot do this, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Do not touch him. Do. Not. Do. It./ Gibbs swallowed hard and said gutturally, "Go wash up. Now. I need food."

For a few long seconds Tony didn't move. He then let out a long breath and stepped back, saying on a sigh, "Sure thing, Boss."

Gibbs listened to the splash of water from the hose from over by his parked truck. When he dared to look around Tony had turned off the water and was pulling his t-shirt over his head. There was a glimpse of his nicely muscled abs and then his bare flesh was hidden from view. With the temptation out of sight, relief swept over Gibbs, but he knew that he was treading a very fine line. Deep down he was afraid of what he might do, if not today, then some day…some night…soon.

When had this started? How had his good intentions become so twisted that he would look at this young man with carnal intent, that all he wanted to do was hold Tony in his arms and never let him go? No, no…he was Tony's mentor, his friend. The kid had put his trust in him when there was nobody else to turn to and now…now he was going to hurt him? Break that trust with one selfish move? No, Gibbs was stronger than that. He would not fall for any such temptation.

Gibbs ordered pizza and when it was delivered they sat in lawn chairs out on the deck. A few beers, and the knowledge that his wife wasn't going to be walking in, mellowed Gibbs somewhat. He found himself enjoying Tony's company. Not that he could keep up with the kid's one-sided conversation, the way he was jumping from topic to topic as fast as a radio sportscaster broadcasting a hot game.

Gibbs looked up at the starry night sky and wondered how long it would take to finish fixing up the boat. He just wanted to put her on the market so there'd be no more reminder of his soon-to-be ex-wife. He'd already decided that this winter he'd build a sailboat in his basement, one of those Amigo kits, a 22-footer. A man needs a hobby to take his mind off all the shit that comes with the job. Ever since he'd started at NCIS it had been go, go, go, what with his short-lived marital bliss, that overseas op, and Mike Franks' constant push to bring dirtbags to justice that kept him on the run 'til late at night. Franks didn't mind bending the rules if it got the job done but there was always some asshole at the top worried about political repercussions. It was DC, after all. Al least now that Pacci was on the team, Gibbs wasn't the probie any more. That was something to smile about.

When he could get a word in edgewise, Gibbs asked Tony, "What kind of markers did you have to pull in to get a whole month off your job?" Tony tensed and his ramblings came to an abrupt stop. It took a couple of seconds for Gibbs to realize he'd made an assumption that was apparently wrong. "They did give you leave, didn't they?"

Tony picked at the label on his beer bottle, then went to take a swig only to find the bottle was empty. Standing abruptly, he said, "Gonna get another beer. Want one?"

Tony was already heading into the house when Gibbs' voice stopped him cold. "Get the hell back here and tell me what's going on."

Tony did as he was told and slumped in the chair like a sullen teenager. He played with his empty beer bottle until Gibbs leaned over and smacked the back of his head.

"Ow!" Shocked at being hit, Tony looked at Gibbs and found a pair of angry blue eyes pinning him down. He could run or he could face Gibbs. Not much choice, really, because he knew that if he ran for it, Gibbs would tackle him before he got ten feet. "I'm not on leave. I left my job," Tony said in a small but defensive voice. From the look on Gibbs face, best described as simmering volcano, the man was not happy.

In a deceptively calm tone Gibbs asked, "You quit a good job so you could laze around all summer, DiNozzo?"

Tony sat up straight and retorted, "After the paces you put me through today I wouldn't exactly call it lazing, Gibbs. I'm willing to work. And why is it you're ready to assume the worst of me? Are you even going to give me a chance to explain?"

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "So explain."

Tony sighed and gave in. "Okay, I liked working at the VA. I developed new programs, coached a wheelchair basketball team for the paraplegics, and I even got some of the recent veterans motivated but…It was good and steady work but it just wasn't enough, Gibbs." He ran a hand through his hair. "As soon as I started studying in the crime analysis program I knew I wanted to be a detective, out in the field. Sure, there was a lot of statistics and dry stuff, but once we worked a mock crime scene…well, I was sold on it. I _knew_ it was for me."

When it was obvious that Gibbs was listening to him, Tony leaned forward eagerly. "For as long as I remember my father's been telling me how my life was going to play out. He chose the career I was gonna have, had me meet the people I needed to know, all that crap. He had it all mapped out. When I was a teen, Dad thought I was giving him a hard time just because I was going through a James Dean stage or something, but I always knew that everything he was planning for me was wrong. No way was I gonna have a desk job at DNZ Enterprises and keep my sanity. I bucked him every chance I got and stuck to my guns. When he cut off my college funds, I paid my own way with a little help from my trust fund." Gibbs hadn't said anything, but Tony could sense the older man understood. He was relieved because it meant a lot to have Gibbs on his side. "I'm going to be an investigator, Gibbs. I really want this. I want to be like _you_."

Gibbs took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Shit, nobody in their right mind would want to be like him, but Tony was smart and had good instincts for the most part. So long as he wasn't heading down this road out of some misguided sense of hero-worship or some other bullshit, he'd probably be fine. Gibbs had a strong feeling that he was going to spend an awful lot of time worrying about Tony in the years to come. "You're sure about this?"

Relieved that it was out in the open, Tony said, "I already passed the Peoria Police Department's entrance exam. I start training at the police academy in September. My frat brother, Nate, he joined the Peoria PD last year, and after I messed up any chance to play pro ball and I saw what he was doing…"

Tony talked about his new career choice and the on-the-job experience that Peoria was offering, and Gibbs took it all in. The young man's spirit was invigorating but it made Tony appear so young. Or maybe, Gibbs thought, he was just feeling old in comparison. When he was Tony's age he was already married with a kid on the way, and had done a tour overseas with his unit, so why was he balking at the idea of Tony becoming a cop? "It sounds like you've got it all worked out, Tony."

"You know that list of phone numbers you gave me, Gibbs? In case I had any problems when you were away?" He waited for Gibbs to nod and then said, "The week before I took the entry exam I called Dr. Mallard, because you weren't back yet from Bosnia. He was the only person I knew who was in the field, and I had to have a reference and my father wasn't an option. I really needed to talk to someone and it couldn't wait and you weren't…"

Gibbs held up a hand to stem the flow of Tony's explanation. It sounded too much like an apology. "Hey, that's why I gave you his number. You did the right thing talking to Dr. Mallard." When Gibbs had returned from overseas, Ducky had told him about the younger man's call.

The ME had described Tony as being a decent young man. "And not quite as frivolous as he would lead one to believe," he said perceptively. Ducky had gone on to assert that in his opinion, DiNozzo Sr. deserved a whipping for what he'd done to the boy. "I had a long discussion with your young man about his future, Jethro, and he seems to have a good head on his shoulders, although he does tend to go off on a tangent if he isn't reined in." Gibbs had stifled a laugh at that comment, especially coming from Ducky. "I suspect that with some discipline and guidance from an authority figure he'll mature quite nicely. If you want to know the particulars of our conversation, you will have to ask Anthony yourself," Ducky had said firmly. "I did promise him it would be confidential."

Gibbs had put off asking Tony for details about his talk with Ducky until they were face to face, and now he knew what it had been about. He only wished he could have been the one Tony had turned to for advice and assurance. "Dr. Mallard helped you out?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah, he did." His cheeks colored in a blush. "You've always been there for me, Jethro. I asked him not to tell anyone because I…I wanted to wait until I earned my badge and then I was going to show it to you."

"I'm looking forward to that day, Tony," Gibbs said with a smile, surprised at how touched he was that Tony looked up to him.

Tony's eyes sought out reassurance from Gibbs. "So you think I can do this?"

"I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, Tony. Becoming a LEO might be a good fit for you. Thing is, there's a downside to law enforcement. Sure, you'll get the chance to catch some of the scumbags out there, to make a difference, but you'll see terrible things every day, some of 'em so bad they'll be imprinted in your brain forever. It can hit really close to home, screw you up bad. The stress of the job has messed up a lot of good cops whose only goal was to uphold the law, to do the right thing."

Tony sat back in the lawn chair and looked up at the night sky, thinking about what Gibbs had said. Knowing that the man rarely spoke at such length or from the heart in such a way made his words all the more important. "It's about helping people, catching the bad guys, sure, but for me it's also about solving the puzzle. Understanding what makes people tick, getting into in the details of the crime, figuring out the how as well as the why. I've never put it into words before but this just feels _right_. Magnum says that dreams are a sort of a private movie you write, produce and direct. Well, this is my dream. Guess I'm not making a whole lot of sense."

"I get it, Tony. You're the only person who can control your destiny." And Tony was used to making his own choices, sticking to his guns. If he'd been able to stand up to his damned father all these years, he could handle anything. The kid would surely make a tenacious cop one day.

Tony grinned widely. Gibbs believed in him, and that was a whole lot more than his father ever did. Senior would eventually find out about his son's latest 'bad choice' but Tony wasn't going to make it any easier for him. He stretched and yawned. "I'm beat. Gonna turn in if that's okay." He rose to his feet and said, "By the way, Boss, I looked in your cupboards and unless you want to eat beans for dinner, how about I go food shopping while you're at work tomorrow?"

"What's wrong with beans?" At Tony's look of horror Gibbs smiled. "Just buy real food, Tony. Milk, eggs, meat, fruit. Get something green but not peas. And no sugary cereal." God, he sounded like a parent. "You can use my truck. You think you can work on the boat on your own tomorrow? I'll join you at the marina after work if there's any light left."

"You trust me, Gibbs?" Tony meant more than trusting him to work on the boat alone.

Gibbs wondered who had deemed him the one responsible for Tony's wellbeing - not that he minded the job. In fact he enjoyed it. It was obvious Tony trusted him implicitly and Gibbs just hoped he wasn't going to let the kid down. "Yeah, I trust you, Tony. Just sand the hull, same as we did today, and the we'll start on the railings on deck. Tell you what, you can come in to work with me sometime this week. And we can get in some target practice at the range."

Tony's face lit up with pleasure. "Get the grand tour of NCIS? I can meet Ducky?"

Gibbs got to his feet and when Tony stood beside him Gibbs slung an arm around his shoulders. "Oh yeah," he said with a grin as they walked into the house. "The NCIS morgue is a good place to start if you're gonna be an investigator, DiNozzo."

Before he turned off the bedside lamp Tony slipped a single folded piece of paper out of an envelope that had 'DiNozzo' written across it in Gibbs' handwriting. He puffed up his pillows behind his head and once again read the note that Gibbs had left for him. He'd memorized the message by now but he still liked to see the actual writing, seeking to unlock the mystery that was Leroy Jethro Gibbs in the spare words and curling script. It seemed strange that the ex-Marine would have such nice handwriting; block letters seemed to be more in synch with his character. On the back of the paper was a concise map drawn in pencil, showing the way to the marina.

_Tony -_

_Bedroom upstairs at front of house is yours. Help yourself to food. Hands off the beer. Come to the marina. Map on back. _

_Ducky says to say hi._

_Jethro_

Tony smiled about Gibbs saying this bedroom was his. His for the rest of the month, anyway. His smile grew even wider at Gibbs signing his first name, Jethro. Nice of Dr. Mallard to send a greeting, too.

Gibbs hadn't asked why Tony had chosen to apply to the Peoria PD rather than to a federal agency or NCIS. It would have been difficult to explain aloud, but Tony needed to do this on his own, without any hint of favoritism or undue influence. Contrary to most people's expectations, he did have a plan. It might not be the kind of plan that DiNozzo Sr. would approve of, but it was Tony's and he liked it. Peoria was a good place to learn the basics and he'd liked the no-nonsense superintendent of the police force, who he had met as part of the interview process. The PPD was expanding their detective division and they worked closely with the police forces of three major cities within a two-hour drive. And what was best was that so long as Tony passed the training with high marks, he was assured a spot in the criminal investigations division. He'd make Jethro proud of him if it was the last thing he ever did. /Detective Anthony DiNozzo./ He smiled to himself.

After putting the note safely away, Tony turned off the light and settled down in the single bed. He went to sleep with a warm feeling in his belly and a smile on his face, all because one man had opened his home and his heart to him.

*** end this part***


	10. Chapter 10

Title: The Bodyguard 10 - Illusion  
Rating: FRAO, adult situations, m/m, slash, sex, language  
Genre: Slash; Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Spoilers: Includes season 8 to 8x07 Broken Arrow  
Summary: When Tony was in college he met Gibbs, who became his bodyguard for life. After Tony's father visits DC, Tony has a hard time getting a grip. Gibbs is there to help him, of course. Takes place in current day.

**The Bodyguard 10 - Illusion**

Arlington, Virginia, 2010

_Magnum__: Every day in the tropics is part illusion; Rain clouds are actually rainbows ... the perfect wave breaks into a riptide ... conviction of immortality grows out of the endless summer. What I should have remembered is that illusion is always dangerous. But, on a perfect morning on the beach, who could remember fate?_

From the bedroom Gibbs listened for, and heard, the front door being slammed - hard - and then Tony's weary footsteps as he climbed the stairs. Gibbs, sitting in bed with his back against the headboard, book in hand, peered over his reading glasses to watch Tony stagger across the room in an exaggerated manner and then collapse on his side of their bed, face down.

Tony's groan was muffled by the bedding. "God give me strength."

With a sigh Gibbs put his book and eyeglasses aside and laid a hand on his lover's head. He ruffled Tony's short hair and smiled warmly at the back of his head. "Bad day at the office, honey?"

Tony turned his face to look scathingly at the older man. "The past _three days_ have been bad. How would you like it if your father was used as a front man to get in the door? How about if he upstages you by taking down the bad guy before you get the chance to rescue him?" Tony reached out and laid a heavy hand on Gibbs' thigh, and closed his eyes with a small moan. "All the way to the airport he kept harassing me to give him a pair of handcuffs. He says he wants to learn hand-to-hand combat. I mean, it's like he gets his rocks off on the danger or something."

Gibbs said unsympathetically, "Running towards the fire seems to run in your family, DiNozzo."

Tony opened his eyes to frown at Gibbs. "Hey! The difference is that I'm a trained agent and he's not. And what about the women? He's, what, pushing eighty? And there he was, scoring with every female in sight!"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Hmm."

Tony propped up his head on one hand and demanded, "What the hell does that mean?"

"Sounds like you have something to look forward to when you're his age, Tony," Gibbs said in an offhand manner.

After a short pause, Tony said, "It's embarrassing, Gibbs. My father did the horizontal mambo with Hilda the hotel masseuse, as well as that prissy blond night concierge who cannot be more than twenty-one and, even if she's denying it, I know he screwed Ziva. There may have been more going on but I am _not_ asking."

"He screwed them all at the same time? Or isn't he telling?"

Tony rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "God, get the pictures outta my brain!" Then, with a deep sigh, he hauled himself off the bed and started to remove his suit, talking to Gibbs as he hung it in the closet. "Dad was asking me about how he could join NCIS, for Chrissake." Tony removed his shirt and socks and tossed them in the hamper, then stood in the doorway of the bathroom clad only in his boxer shorts, hands on his hips. "How would _he_ like it if I strolled into his office, or the office he used to have before he went bankrupt, and ogled the secretaries, used his computer without his permission, and made out with his former business partner who, despite being sixty, was a really good-looking guy along the lines of Harrison Ford, right down to that crooked smile. And you cannot tell me that Jack Brewster doesn't swing both ways, and that Dad doesn't know about it." He took a deep breath and pulled at his hair, saying, "Hell, now I'm talking like Abby!" Tony pivoted and went back into the bathroom, muttering to himself.

"Thinking of trading places with your old man, Tony?" Gibbs, who knew what Harrison Ford looked like, did not like the idea that Tony was looking his father's former business partner _in that way_. He wondered, with some discomfort, if DiNozzo Sr. was a switch-hitter and had passed bisexual traits down to his son. Gibbs would never ask Tony about his suspicion.

"Trade places with him? God no! I like my monogamous life too much, thank you very much." Tony somehow managed to talk while brushing his teeth. "You shoulda seen him at the airport, Jethro, telling Trump about how he wrestled Mayfield to the ground." There was the sound of running water and then Tony stuck his head out with a worried expression and said hesitantly, "I wasn't using monogamous to mean boring, Jethro, because I love everything about our life together, and I love you, and…You know what I meant, right?"

Gibbs raised a hand to stop Tony from continuing in the same vein. "I know, Tony." It looked like he was going to have a difficult time calming his partner down. They'd be lucky to get any sleep that night.

Tony nodded and went back into the bathroom, starting up about his father once more, raising his voice so Gibbs could hear him. Gibbs listened patiently while Tony complained, responding with an occasional grunt to prove he wasn't asleep. The toilet flushed and then finally Tony joined him in bed. Without saying anything, Gibbs watched Tony settle into bed and pull the covers up to cover his naked chest. Eventually the younger man's soliloquy spluttered and came to an end.

Tony caught Gibbs eyeing him with a bemused look on his face. He asked abruptly, "What?"

"Nothing. Just waiting."

"Sorry, but I'm still a little steamed, okay?"

"All done now?"

Tony said, somewhat belligerently, "For the moment. Why?"

Gibbs turned off the light and then rolled towards Tony, draping his leg and arm across his lover's body to hold him close. "Because I've wanted to do this to you ever since you walked in, you idiot." Gibbs kissed his lover softly and reassuringly at first, but the moment that Tony uttered a surprised, "Oh," Gibbs intensified the kiss. Tony closed his eyes halfway and opened his mouth to accept Gibbs' plundering tongue but he didn't return the kiss with his usual fervor. When Gibbs withdrew a little it was to check out Tony, whose entire body was radiating tension. "Why are you still so wound up?"

"I've been a little crazy the last couple of days. It's hard to relax." Tony looked away, a flush rising to his cheeks. "Okay, I've been more than a little crazy." He shifted in discomfort from the way he was being studied, but Gibbs had him pinned in place by the weight of his body. Feeling unaccountably ready to jump out of his skin, Tony said worriedly, "I don't know what's wrong with me…I'm sorry."

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry about. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you." Gibbs caressed the side of Tony's face and ran his thumb across his cheekbone, wishing he could smooth the tense lines away from around Tony's eyes. He said gently yet firmly, "You need to come down a little, Tony." Tony swallowed and looked at him questioningly, so Gibbs spelled it out. "I know you've had a couple of tough days but-" Tony opened his mouth to interrupt but Gibbs forestalled him with a kiss. Once more Gibbs pulled back. He said, "You need to slow down. Just relax and let it all go away." He didn't take his eyes off Tony's face, and the instant Tony wriggled and began to talk, Gibbs settled another kiss on his mouth.

With his lips pressed against Gibbs', Tony mumbled, "Don' think I can…"

Gibbs ran his hand through Tony's hair and gently clasped the back of his neck. "Yes you can. I'm going to help you. You trust me?" He adjusted his position so he was straddled atop the younger man.

Tony inhaled raggedly and gave a small nod. "Of course…yes…"

With most of his weight resting on Tony, their bodies meeting from thigh to chest, Gibbs could feel the man lying under him quiver as he resisted submission. "Just let it go. I'm here to catch you."

"Gibbs…please," Tony begged. He raised his hands to push at Gibbs' chest, but there was no power behind his action.

"Let it all go, Tony." Gibbs kissed him again, slowly, his tongue working its way slowly across Tony's lower lip and then pressuring him for entry. Tony returned the kiss with more passion and after a little while Gibbs withdrew just enough to assure him, "He's gone and it's over."

"It's never over," Tony moaned on a sigh. Gibbs' mouth slid away from his lips to explore the soft flesh underneath his jaw, sucking lightly, and Tony raised his chin to give him better access.

Gibbs returned his attention to Tony's mouth again, and taking his lower lip between his teeth he tugged at it a little as a means of distraction. "Push all the bad stuff out and close the door on it," Gibbs urged, his tone soft and encouraging. "You can do it. We've practiced this before, right?"

Tony gazed up at Gibbs, blinking as he struggled to comply. His lower lip was pink and trembling slightly, his eyes unsure. "Okay, I'm closing the door."

"Lock it, bar the door and come towards me." Gibbs shifted his weight and braced himself over Tony, trapping him between his strong arms. He watched Tony's expression carefully, hoping the therapist's advice would work. Every doubt and fear seemed to emanate from Tony's eyes, and then there was comprehension and resolve. Even though they'd tried the technique a couple of times, Tony had never been so wound up before. "You can do it."

Tony closed his eyes for a couple of minutes and then he reopened them and offered Gibbs a small smile. "Okay, it's done," he whispered. "I'm here. Kiss me again?" His arms wrapped around Gibbs and drew him down for a kiss, angling his head and sucking at his tongue insistently. He reached between their bodies and rapidly rubbed his palm back and forth across Gibbs' genitals, jerking his hips and panting with the effort.

"Whoa there. Shhh, take it easy. There's plenty of time." Gibbs held Tony's hands until he desisted, then moved his hips in a slow circle, feeling the heat of Tony's hardening cock through the thin layers of clothing that separated them. He fumbled to slide Tony's boxers down his legs, and then pushed his own underwear away just as Tony clutched at Gibbs' undershirt and pulled it up. There was a tangle of hands and knees and clothing, and finally they were both naked and laughing, but best of all, Tony no longer had that hint of strain about his eyes that he'd had for the entire time his father had been in town.

"You'd think we'd be more elegant at stripping, with all the practice we've had," Tony said breathlessly.

"Guess we need to practice some more then." They moved so they faced each other, only inches apart. Gibbs ran his hand across the younger man's chest, gently squeezing his pectoral muscles, fingering the rosy-brown nipples. Tony let out a small gasp; his nipples were very sensitive and hardened into little nubs at the slightest suggestion of a touch. "You're so beautiful, my handsome boy," Gibbs said in a deep, seductive voice. Every stroke across the lightly tanned skin was meant to soothe rather than arouse. Gibbs followed each caress of his hands with a tender kiss. Slowly Tony relaxed under the gentle and erotic touches.

Gibbs smoothed Tony's dark chest hair then scraped his nails across the underlying skin the opposite direction. Tony had a lot less chest hair when he first knew him, Gibbs recalled. "I remember that summer when you worked with me on my boat, how innocent you were, how jealous I was when you talked to girls down at the marina. How you never wore a shirt and your back was so brown, your skin so silky. Your jeans were hanging so low off your hips I could see the white of your underwear. Made my mouth water."

"I knew you were watching," said Tony with a teasing smile.

Gibbs ducked his head and admitted, "I kept finding jobs for you to do so you'd have to bend over."

That made Tony laugh. "And there I was wondering what I could do to make you want me. Neither of us was so innocent."

"I wanted to touch you so bad…Half the time I couldn't face you, couldn't let you see how just being near you, smelling you, turned me on. God, it was hard. I couldn't…" He swallowed. "For months after you left, every time I smelled sawdust I had a hard-on."

Tony grinned in self-satisfaction at Gibbs' admission. "Is _that_ why you like to work with wood, Jethro?" Gibbs smiled wickedly in reply and sucked on one of Tony's nipples, rolling the other one between his finger and thumb, eliciting little cries of excitement. "Want more," Tony panted. "Touch me here…" Tony tried to push Gibbs' hand lower, impatient and needy, but when Gibbs made no move to touch his genitals, Tony fisted his own cock.

Gibbs wrapped his fingers around Tony's wrist and forced his hand to his side. When Tony resisted with a protesting whine, Gibbs squeezed his wrist and ordered in a low voice, "Do not touch yourself." He only released him when Tony gave in. Trailing his fingers across the younger man's inner thigh, Gibbs smiled at the wanton way Tony moaned and rolled onto his back, raising one leg in encouragement. "Greedy," Gibbs said lovingly. He wouldn't have it any other way. He fondled Tony's heavy balls and watched him squirm, smiling at the way his eyes closed in response to the torment, the way his mouth released those little sounds that were not quite whimpers, not yet moans. This is how he loved to see his younger lover, rubbing his hips back and forth on the sheets in an agony of unfulfilled desire, skin flushed and glistening with sweat, his cock dark and veined with droplets of pre-come beading on the tip. It dripped onto Gibbs' leg and a jolt of arousal at the sight and smell caused his cock to harden and thicken, to push at Tony's thigh as if it had a mind of its own.

Still, Gibbs resisted touching Tony's hard and leaking cock. Instead he ran his hands across the younger man's muscled rear and up his back, exerting pressure across his ribs and chest, thumbs sliding across his nipples. Gibbs' work-roughened hands glided down Tony's arms to bring the tips of his long, tapered fingers to his mouth to lick and suck. He made love to Tony with alternately hard and whisper-soft caresses of hands and lips accompanied by suckling and mouthing his warm, inviting skin. God, just the taste of Tony's skin was enough to get a rise out of him. Gibbs slid down in the bed and languorously licked along the tender flesh of Tony's belly to the juncture of his hip and leg, and down to nuzzle at the heated, musky skin of his inner thigh.

Heeding Gibbs' order not to touch himself, Tony reached instead for Gibbs, pulling his hair, grasping at his arms and shoulders, moaning and encouraging him to touch him there, down there, until finally he was rewarded with a fist wrapping around his velvety shaft and Gibbs' tongue sliding across the head and delving into his slit. Tony's hips jerked in response, bucking with desire, a litany of pleas falling from his lips. "Oh God, oh God, oh God…"

Then Gibbs was lying face-to-face with him once again, his eyes dark and intense. They kissed, exploring and fulfilling their mutual need, wonderful and wet with tongues and teeth and lips engaging in expert play. Suddenly Gibbs' fingers were inside of Tony, two to start with, slicked up and plundering his all-too ready entrance. They stroked and plunged and twisted, rubbing across his sweet spot until Tony gasped and arched his back in pleasure. His fingers bit into Gibbs' muscled shoulders, bracing himself as he moved his hips, fucking himself and crying out for more. Tony reached between his legs to hold onto Gibbs' wrist, to ensure those fingers didn't have any chance to retract.

Gibbs kissed him, open-mouthed and rough, his tongue demanding, taking. Tony made a distressed sound when Gibbs withdrew his fingers and pushed him flat onto his back. With sure motions, Gibbs lubed his heavy dark cock, prodded Tony's legs into position and mounted him without hesitation in a long, slow slide that brought a gasp from his lover's open mouth.

Tony moved his hips encouragingly, almost shouting as he cried, "Damn it, Gibbs, move, just do it! Fuck me!"

Gibbs braced himself with hands on Tony's hipbones, his grip firm, and pulled back a little before thrusting his cock back into his lover's writhing body. The next time he withdrew a little further and his penetration into Tony's pliant body was deeper and harder. Again and again he pumped, changing the angle and the speed but never letting up on the assault on Tony's body until, with a final shudder, he came.

Gibbs needed to hear Tony moan and whimper and shout when they had sex, as evidence that the way he plundered his body, in a far from gentle manner, was wholeheartedly embraced. Sometimes, when Gibbs lost himself in the physical act of fucking, and they both knew damned well that this was _not_ making love, his last vestige of control would shred and he'd be torn apart from the inside out. It was only after he reached his peak and ejaculated, when he finally came back to earth and his heavy breathing slowly evened out, when his brain began to function once more in fits and starts like an old engine that needs coaxing to come back to life in cold weather, that Gibbs fully understood how unrestrained he had been.

As for Tony, he never said a word about how rough Gibbs had been. He'd merely wrap the older man in his loving arms to show he totally accepted everything that Gibbs had meted out, treating their joining as if it was a gift of immense value. Gibbs concluded that maybe Tony wanted, or _needed_, in some twisted way, to feel the punishing blows, to be taken down by his partner's carnal need. It didn't reduce Gibbs' feelings of guilt, but if this was what they both needed, the unmerciful give and take, then they were lucky to have each other.

Initially when Gibbs had realized what was going on, he had tried to avoid penetrating his lover as a way to spare him from harm. That hadn't lasted long. Gibbs reasoned that there was no need to practice anal sex when they both derived more than enough pleasure from making love in alternate ways, but Tony didn't agree. "It's not enough. I'm not complete unless I feel you inside of me," Tony insisted. In the end, as always, Gibbs gave in, unable to deny Tony what he wanted.

Gibbs' chin jabbed into the muscle of Tony's shoulder as he shoved hard one more time and came, crying out, "Tony!" He always shouted Tony's name, even if he didn't remember doing it afterwards. He knew this because Tony, with a smirk on his face, would tell him about it later on, proud that even in a sexed-up, oblivious state, Gibbs knew whose ass he was driving his dick into.

Gibbs lay beside him, overcome, wet with semen and sweat and Tony's tears. He used a corner of the sheet to wipe the moisture off Tony's face. "Oh Tony," he whispered, unable to say anything more.

The younger man turned his head on the pillow, his mouth puffy and red from Gibbs' kisses, his eyes heavily lidded, and he smiled.

After he'd cleaned Tony up, and then himself, Gibbs pulled out fresh tees and shorts for them to sleep in. When it appeared that Tony wasn't in any state to move a muscle, Gibbs coerced him into a sitting position and supported him while he helped him dress in clean clothes. Soon they were settled under the covers, warm and relaxed, with Tony leaning back against Gibbs as if he was a cushion, and Gibbs stroking one hand up and down his lover's arm in slow, calming strokes. Tony was quiet, quieter than usual, so Gibbs looked down at him and asked, "Hey, you okay?"

With a nod Tony captured Gibbs' hand and hugged it to his chest. "I don't look forward to being his age, you know," he said quietly.

Gibbs' tried and failed to see what Tony was referring to. "What do you mean?"

Tony offered a slight, nonchalant shrug that suggested quite the opposite emotion was playing out in his brain. "Being eighty."

Gibbs understood but was not about to ruin the mood by speaking Tony's father's name aloud. Instead he asked cautiously, "Why not?"

After a long pause Tony shrugged again. "You'd be ninety-two."

Unable to suppress a chuckle, Gibbs replied without thinking, "I doubt I'll live to be that old, Tony."

Tony turned in Gibbs' arms and laid his cheek to his chest. "However old you live to be, Jethro, I won't live a day longer."

Realizing what Tony was saying, Gibbs' heart went out to him. They both knew the likelihood of either or both of them being taken out in the line of duty was pretty high but they never spoke about it. It wasn't something Gibbs dwelled upon, but the thought of living without Tony in his arms, in his bed, in his life brought a sharp pain to his chest, unexpected in its severity. Holding Tony close, Gibbs laid a kiss on his temple. "Me either, babe. Me either."

***end this part***

**NOTE:** This story is not complete. I will post the rest of it only when I have finished writing it, and I'm not sure when that will be. If you'd like to read more, sign up for an alert.


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